


Ageless, Timeless

by Vampiyaa



Series: Forever and More [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Het, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Romance, Suggestive Themes, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampiyaa/pseuds/Vampiyaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One/Rose AU; Part One of the Forever and More series. An older man chastises Rose for her long-time abusive relationship with Jimmy Stone. She calls him a nosy old git. He proves to her that not only is he ageless, but that together, they are timeless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ageless, Timeless - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Doctor makes a bad impression on Rose the first time they meet with know-it-all comments about her relationship with Jimmy. When they meet several times afterwards, however, they realise the other is something special to them.

Ageless, Timeless  
Part One 

Rose looked up starry-eyed at her current boyfriend and probably soon-to-be husband, who was strolling out of the pub hand-in-hand with her looking for all the world like he was Emperor of the Universe, with his handsome head thrown back and a superior grin on his face. She couldn’t help but marvel at her own luck. Honestly, she was known in the Estates as the chav daughter of slaphappy Jackie Tyler and the long-deceased failure Pete Tyler, and yet here she was, holding hands with _him_. He was brilliant, he was fit, he was older, and the whole of the Powell Estates that had ever laid eyes on him wanted him. But Jimmy had seduced her when she was seventeen with promises of seeing the wonders of the world, escaping the constricting clutches of the Powell Estates, and so here she was, six years later.

He noticed her watching him and looked at her pointedly before she even had time to flush. “You were bloody awful tonight.”

Rose’s smile faded off her face and she hung her head. “I was?” 

He scowled. “Completely.”

Rose’s knock-off trainers suddenly became very interesting. This was the third time Jimmy had let her sing in one of his band’s gigs, which had taken place an hour earlier in the pub they’d just exited. Granted, she was only a background singer, but she’d thought tonight had been her best performance and that Jimmy would have been proud of her. She should have known, though. Nothing she did was good enough.

“You ought to do better next time,” he sniffed, a moment in their silence.

Her head snapped up in delight and she saw him smirking. “Really? I can have another go?” Jimmy nodded and she squealed, tossing her arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you!” 

“Just don’t screw up this time,” he said, untangling himself from her. “Stay here, babe. Gonna collect our cut from the pub’s owner.”

He left her and circled around the building to the pub’s back alley entrance. Rose beamed in the afternoon summer air and leaned against the pub’s wall, feeling bubbly at his rare attempt to cheer her up. Usually he didn’t give a flying fuck how she felt unless it was inconvenient to him. Her mood vanished when she heard a snide, older voice say from beside her, “How sad.”

Rose turned her head, one eyebrow quirked at the older-looking man standing on the opposite side of the pub’s steps, looking down at her over his nose with his thin lips pressed together in a disapproving line. She felt rather like she was being chastised by a principal, especially since he was wearing a posh black overcoat, a pair of plaid beige trousers and black loafers. “Sorry, what?”

“Your relationship to that pitiful excuse of a human,” the man sniffed. “It is rather sad.”

Bristling, Rose put her hands on her hips a la Jackie Tyler. “’Scuse me? Who the hell are you?”

“That is none of your concern, child,” he said, tugging on his jacket lapels and looking like he found himself immeasurably important. “More importantly, you ought to smarten up and... oh, what is it you young folk say?... ah yes, _dump_ him. Walk away. Kick his arse to the curb. Something along those lines.” Rose’s look of utter fury didn’t deter the man from his musings. “Don’t know what you see in him, really. He’s not even _that_ handsome.”

“Well, s’not like you’re anything fantastic,” Rose retorted, looking over his receding white hair, pleased when he looked affronted. “What’re you, fifty?”

“My age is none of your business, young lady,” he said pointedly. 

“Neither is my relationship, so butt out, you nosy old git,” Rose snapped, crossing her arms and sticking her nose in the air. 

“You’d be wise to heed me,” the man said haughtily, tugging on his jacket again. She wondered if it was a habit. “Nothing good can come from a young sod who treats a lady such. Besides,” he added, voice dropping to a mumble and eyes now locked on a discarded chip box lying on the sidewalk, “I saw your performance. You have a lovely singing voice.” 

Rose froze, looking him over with a narrowed gaze even as he turned pink and avoided her eye entirely. She’d been singing a Flyleaf song, and he didn’t exactly seem like the type to listen to Christian hard rock. Her irritation only half-gone, she said, “Thanks. I think.”

“Oi, babe,” Jimmy called to her, his guitar case slung on his back and a wad of cash in his hand. “Let’s go; I’m bloody starving.”

“Is he expecting you to cook him dinner?” the man said airily, smirking at her with a smug sense of satisfaction.

Rose flushed, as his comment had been more than spot on, shot him a glare and stomped off towards Jimmy, who seemed almost irritated that she was holding his hand tighter than normal. “S’matter with you, Rose?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, knowing any subject about them breaking up was a touchy one with him. Jackie had brought it up one too many times for his liking (and hers). She spared a glance behind her, looking to where the older man had been standing, but he was gone. 

*

Rose at first dismissed the man’s words as nothing but an observation from a rude, stuffy old curmudgeon, but she found herself taking them to heart after a week of her usual treatment. She lived with Jimmy in a not-so-posh flat in downtown London, which wasn’t as far as the Estates as she wanted to be but still at least a half hour’s ride on the Tube for her mother in case she wanted to come nag. The rent was heavily dependent on Rose, as Jimmy didn’t have a day job other than being a musician, so Rose would divide her time between working her own job at a Henrik’s department store, taking care of Jimmy and singing if he ever managed to get them a gig. It wasn’t until the seventh day — when Rose had burnt the edges of his dinner and he’d exploded, breaking two of her CDs when he flung his beer bottle at her shelf, and she’d stormed into her room in a fit of tears when he called her a useless chav — that the man’s old face burst clear into her mind as she laid on her back and stared up at the ceiling. 

She found herself thinking maybe he was right. As far as the stick up his arse probably was, he was most likely completely right. Rose snorted to herself— her mother had said basically the same thing, although with more begging and usage of the word ‘sweetheart’, even though Jackie had been utterly thrilled the first time Rose had told her she had an interest in Jimmy. It was only when Rose brought him round for dinner (and he made a complete fool out of himself by making his usual obnoxious remarks) and Rose had come home one night with a bruise on her forehead (his favourite football team had lost) that Jackie suddenly stopped liking him. Rose hadn’t listened to a word of what her mother said but was taking into consideration the musings of an old codger, and she snorted to herself again. Now that the anger was out of her system, she told herself she was just being silly. Jimmy was an excellent musician and as soon as his career kicked off, she’d be on the road with him, far away from the Estates. And they’d be happy.

She heard his snore from behind the bedroom door, knowing Jimmy had conked out on the couch to sleep off his four beers and that it was safe to come out. Rose quietly tiptoed out into the living area, tossing a blanket over Jimmy and taking the remote out of his hands to flick off the football game. She glanced over at the empty plate left in the sink and scowled at it. He obviously didn’t have _that_ much of a problem with the burnt parts, otherwise he wouldn’t have eaten it. She tossed down her dinner and headed back to their bedroom to sleep.

*

Her alarm went off at seven thirty, jolting her out of her bizarre dream in which the old man from the pub had seen her with Jimmy again and had whacked her over the head with a measuring stick for not heeding his words. A groan sounded from beside her, and in her groggy state she realised Jimmy had slipped into bed with her sometime in the night and was clamped to her back. 

“Turn ‘toff,” he mumbled, and Rose obediently sat up and pounded the device into submission. She snuggled into him, content to be the small spoon to his big spoon for a few minutes longer, but Jimmy got another idea and slipped his hand into her knickers. 

“No time, babe,” Rose murmured, though she keened when his thumb pressed down on her clit. “Gotta go.” 

He pouted at her, lip sticking out in a way that always got to her. “You’re gonna make me take care of this myself?” he muttered, pressing his erection into her bum. 

She sighed, wishing she had time for a quickie and obediently disappeared under the covers to take his morning hard on in her mouth, sucking him off until he came loudly. Once he was finished and sated, she slipped out of bed and padded into the en suite to start her day, sighing when she heard him snore again. She didn’t particularly like giving him head, but Jimmy loved it and she loved him. Plus, he wasn’t going to leave her alone unless she did it. Rose brushed her teeth quickly to get rid of the taste of him and started on her makeup.

*

Rose’s day consisted mainly of folding the jumpers discarded by the customers (honestly, if it didn’t fit, would it kill them to put it back properly?) and ignoring half of her co-workers’ glares of jealousy that they weren’t the ones on Jimmy Stone’s arm, so it felt like an eternity between the time Rose arrived and the time the clock rang for lunch. Normally on her lunch breaks Rose would either go out for lunch with her oldest mate, Mickey, or stay in the back room reading Charles Dickens. She never used to be a big reader, but one particular night Jimmy had hogged the telly with his friends to watch the game and Rose had had nothing better to do but to peruse his bookshelf (not that that had been anything extensive). She ended up choosing, among _the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ and a couple of _Marvel_ comics, an ancient-looking and doodled-on copy of _Oliver Twist_ and she’d found herself hooked. Now she read classic literature whenever she could steal a moment, particularly Charles Dickens and Nathaniel Hawthorne. Today was an exception, however as the chief electrician, Wilson, visited to fix the lightbulbs in the basement. The man was sweet, energetic and stereotypically gay, and had no quarrels whatsoever of sitting down with her at lunch break and chatting about his newest beau. 

“... he says ‘I’ll pay you back later’, and then I just kicked ‘im to the curb, I did, ‘cos y’know there ain’t gonna be any good comin’ from them excuses,” Wilson chatted, sharing a box of chips with her in the break room. “Me money’s probably long gone now.”

“‘M sorry, Wil,” Rose said, patting him on the knee. 

Wilson waved a hand absently, licking salt off his fingers. “Never mind that.” He looked at her pointedly. “How’s that wanker of yours treatin’ you?”

“Fine, Wilson,” Rose sighed, wondering what was up with everyone looking down their noses on her relationship with Jimmy. 

“He’s not hit you?”

“He only did that once.”

“Twice,” Wilson reminded her. “An’ both times it was in the face, Rose.”

Rose opened her mouth, not even sure how she was going to justify it since it sounded pretty pathetic to her own ears (and she’d just remembered he’d hit her three times, actually) until the alarm on her mobile went off, signalling the end of her lunch break. She bid Wilson goodbye with an eccentric hug and an invitation to come around for tea later and dragged herself back to her post. It was ten minutes into the rest of her shift before she spotted a certain someone tottering around the dress section. Rose’s jaw dropped— it was the old sod from outside the pub! Before Rose could go over and give him a piece of her mind for showing up at her _job_ , one of her fellow employees, Stephanie, flounced over to him and gave him her best ‘welcome’ smile. Stephanie returned not even five seconds later, looking all but terrified; Rose snickered, and then reminded herself not to because he was at her job. 

As everyone else looked too frightened to go near him, Rose straightened herself up and stormed over to him. He didn’t look up as he examined a peach-coloured prom dress but instead sighed irritably as he sensed her presence. “As I’ve already said, I _do not_ need any help searching, thank you.”

She ignored him and crossed her arms. “Are you stalking me?”

He glanced up at her uninterestedly only to do a rather comical double take when he recognised her. “What are _you_ doing here, child?”

“ _I_ work here,” Rose scowled, pointing to her name tag. “What’s your excuse?”

He straightened up and glared down at her. “ _I_ am searching for something, young lady, and I will thank you to stop sending those vultures to swoop over me and ask if I need help.” 

She half-smirked at his quip about her co-workers. “What are you lookin’ for?” 

The barest trace of pink tinted his wrinkled cheeks and he said swiftly, “That need not concern you. It is clear this establishment doesn’t hold what I am seeking.”

She suddenly felt afraid, and took a step back. “You _are_ stalking me!”

“I most certainly am not!” he bristled; now his whole face was the same colour as the magenta gown to his right. 

“Then what are you lookin’ for?” Rose challenged, hands on her hips again (her mum would be proud). 

He looked immeasurably uncomfortable. “I am searching for a gown to give to my granddaughter, if you absolutely must know.”

Rose relaxed now that she knew he wasn’t a creepy old sod and her glare automatically softened into her signature tongue-touched smile, watching his entire stiff posture slump at once and his mouth drop open. “Granddaughter, yeah? What’s she look like?”

The man seemed to jerk himself out of whatever reverie of astonishment he’d fallen into, trying not to look too disgruntled. “Her name is Susan. She’s... erm... hold on a moment...” He promptly stuck his hand in his pockets, rummaging around and sinking his arm in to his elbow. Rose looked at him confusedly, wondering if his pockets were bigger on the inside or something, before he straightened up again with a snap and briskly handed her a photo. 

Rose smiled at it. His granddaughter was a lovely teenager with a pixie-like appearance, fair skin and a sweet-looking face. “She’s really beautiful.” 

She handed him back the photograph, and it was her turn to be shocked as his face was graced with a gentle smile that took decades off his face. “Yes, she is.” 

He seemed startled by his own reaction, and promptly cleared his throat and resumed his earlier cross posture. Rose chuckled at it and turned to walk through the aisle of dresses. “What’re you gettin’ her a dress for?”

He looked slightly proud. “Her school is hosting a dance for all the near-graduates in a couple of months.”

Rose smiled back at him, and he faltered again, but this time she didn’t notice. “Prom, is it?”

“Yes, I believe that’s the word Susan used,” he said, nodding fervently. 

Rose examined a green brocade and tried to picture it on his granddaughter. “Bet it’s lovely.”

His frown deepened, as did the crease in his forehead and between his eyebrows. “Didn’t you ever have a prom when you were in school?”

Unknowingly cursing Jimmy in the back of her mind, she shook her head. “Nope.”

“Whyever not?”

Her hands faltered on the green brocade and she smiled at him, too disarmingly to be real. “Just didn’t.” She held up the dress and said before he could inquire, “Can you see Susan wearing this?” 

He studied it intently, looking at it as though he were an art dealer searching for forgeries, before sighing heavily. “I haven’t a clue. Rassilon, I’m no good at this!”

She wondered about the odd exclamation (what the sodden hell did Rassilon mean?) but found his frustration to make his granddaughter happy unbelievably adorable, and she gifted him with another tongue-in-teeth grin. “‘M not goin’ anywhere.” 

He blinked at her confusedly, looking almost dazed. “No?”

She shook her head and grinned, “I work here.” His face went red went he remembered that, until Rose added, “Also, you scared off the rest of the staff away, and now nobody’ll go near you but me.” They both shared a chuckle over his obvious rudeness, and Rose put down the green brocade. “Well, let’s think of it this way. What’s her favourite colour?” 

He thought for a moment before shrugging. “As far as I know, she doesn’t have one.”

Rose gave him a look that made him feel like he just dribbled on his shirt. “Every girl has a favourite colour. How about this: what’s her eye colour?” 

His own eyes widened, now twinkling with something akin to excitement. “They change sometimes, between brown and olive green.”

“So, like yours then?”

He started, widening his presently khaki eyes at her even more, cheeks pink again. “How do you know that?”

“I’m lookin’ at ‘em right now,” Rose pointed out, and he flushed with remembrance again. She turned over to the dresses. “In my opinion, something like this would be good.” Rose slipped a fern-coloured silk gown off the rack and approached him without warning, holding it close to his eyes, which were still wide as saucers. “It’ll make the colour of her eyes stand out like it does for you.”

He full-on beamed at her, making her falter a little. “Excellent! Susan will be delighted!” The man seized her hand, twining his fingers with hers and shaking it vigorously, making Rose giggle. “Thank you, child!” 

“You’re welcome,” Rose laughed, squeezing his hand back. “I’ll bag it for you, yeah?” 

He nodded, still grinning like a madman, and Rose slipped the hanger out of the dress and led him over to the counter. The two of them glanced at each other and shared another laugh when the group of girls flocked away at their approach, and Rose circled the counter as he dug around in his pockets. When Rose folded the dress and slipped it into a bag, she watched him pull out something that looked like a thin grey bar and held it out to her. 

She looked down at it and quirked an eyebrow. “Um, what’s that?” 

He started, and hastily shoved the stick thing back into his pocket. “Nothing.” She frowned but didn’t inquire, but her confusion deepened when he pulled out a wad of bills and handed them to her. She flicked through them and gave him another look. “These are all blank.” 

His jaw dropped to the floor. “Wh-what?”

“Yeah, look, they’re—” she started to say, holding out the bills to him just as the numbers seemed to twine into view. Rose paused. “Oh. Never mind, must have been a trick of the light or something.”

Not noticing that he was still gaping at her like a fish, she sorted out the bills and handed the excess ones back to him along with the bag. She granted him a smile, even though he was now narrowing his eyes at her as though he thought she were hiding something. Then, with the same tone of voice he’d had when they met, he said, “It was because of him, was it not?” 

Rose’s smile vanished. “What?”

“The reason you didn’t have a prom,” he said, drawing himself up again. “It was because of that oaf, right?” 

Irritation sparked inside her again, and she crossed her arms and gave him a glare. “You’re bloody nosy.”

“But I’m correct,” he said firmly. “Yes?”

“It’s none of your bloomin’ business, you rude git!” Rose said angrily, feeling a sudden urge to swat him upside the head. 

He tugged on his jacket again (definitely a habit) and scowled down at her. “Fine.”

“Good!” she shot at him, as he spun on his heels and stormed out of the store. Ignoring the looks of amusement and confusion from her co-workers, Rose huffily shoved his bills into the register. Muttering about nosy gits, she tried to shove the temperamental old man out of her mind and flocked off to help another customer. 

*

Two days later, Jimmy managed to book them another gig at the pub. Rose was relieved— she was looking forward to singing, as it liberated her, and quite frankly she needed to feel liberated between the ever-constant deprecating from Jimmy and the continuous thoughts of the rude man. Despite everything she just couldn’t stop thinking about him in all his rudeness. Thinking about him usually made her angry, but when she looked beyond his unbelievable urge to stick his nose where it didn’t belong, everything about him suggested he was a mysterious man who loved his granddaughter a lot and didn’t smile often, but when he did it made all the difference. He was also unbelievably observant, and she cursed him for guessing that it was Jimmy’s fault she didn’t get a prom like most girls did. 

As she strolled down the lamp-lit London street towards the pub, hand in hand with Jimmy again and dressed to the nines for her performance in her most expensive outfit, she stayed silent and thought hard about her life choices. If it hadn’t been for the man beside her, she could have gotten her A-levels, had a prom, finished school, gotten a better job and saved up to travel further than Hounslow. Maybe met a bloke who wouldn’t take a swing at her whenever he got drunk and actually provided for them. 

She and Jimmy went into the back rooms to prepare for their performance, Jimmy sitting down with the rest of the band and tuning his guitar and Rose practising her lines. She was slightly nervous underneath her excitement; she loved to sing, but what if Jimmy found her performance awful again and never let her sing again? 

They strolled out on stage and Rose announced the song name, heart beating in her throat as Jimmy started up with his guitar. Throughout the song Rose kept stealing glances to see Jimmy’s reaction to her singing, but his face was impassive and firm as he concentrated on his playing. A little disappointed, Rose turned back to the crowd— 

— and looked straight into the piercing olive gaze of a teenage girl she’d only ever seen in a photograph. 

Rose ripped her gaze away from Susan’s and forced herself not to falter. What on Earth was the grumpy old man’s granddaughter doing at one of her performances? Maybe he really _was_ stalking her and this time he took Susan along with him. 

When the song finished, the crowd clapped a little too loudly to be simple politeness, and Rose hastened off the stage, while Jimmy went round back to collect their pay, to scan the audience for the white-haired old sod with a scowl, but didn’t spot him. Instead, Susan jumped up from her seat and hurried over to her looking like Rose would scold her for coming.

“Hello, Miss,” Susan said, in a lilting, soft voice that suited her pixie features perfectly. “My name is Susan Foreman.”

“I know,” Rose said, before realising that may have sounded rude. “I mean, I’ve met your grandfather; he’s shown me a photo of you.”

Susan’s pouty lips stretched into a smile and her nose wrinkled, and Rose couldn’t help but find her completely adorable. Her eyes twinkled the same way her grandfather’s did. “That’s rather why I’m here, actually. I wanted to apologise for my grandfather’s behaviour. From what he’s told me of your conversations, he most likely came across as insensitive.”

Rose blinked at the teenage girl standing before her and almost collapsed in a fit of giggles. Here she was, apologising for her _grandfather’s_ actions as though their roles were reversed. Giving Susan a tongue-touched grin, Rose said, “Susan, your grandfather is a rude git.” She watched shock blossom over Susan’s face before adding, “But... he has his heart set in the right place.” 

Susan smiled gently, and Rose saw her grandfather in that smile. “He does.”

“And you don’t need to apologise,” Rose added, mentally thinking, _He does, actually_. “It’s alright.”

Susan beamed, cheeks round and eyes crinkled. “Excellent!” A giggle escaped her at the term (God, she was so like her grandfather). “I saw your performances. You have a beautiful voice.”

Rose blushed a bit and smiled. “Thank you.” 

The sweet moment was lost the moment Jimmy’s voice roared out, “ROSE?” 

“I have to go,” Rose mumbled, trying not to look too ashamed of herself. “It was lovely to meet you Susan. You may want to go before you get caught in here, since teens aren’t allowed. Have fun at your prom,” Rose added, another tongue-in-teeth smile forming when Susan looked slightly confused. Obviously the dress was going to be a surprise. 

Susan’s confusion melted into another soft smile. “Thank you, Miss...?”

“Rose Tyler,” she said. 

Susan looked momentarily taken aback, but Rose didn’t have time to contemplate it since Jimmy had just shouted her name again. Giving the little brunette an apologetic smile, Rose turned away and hastened after the source of the yelling. She found Jimmy in the back room, looking livid and about ready to hit her again.

“Where the fuck were you?”

“Talkin’ to someone,” Rose shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. 

He looked like he barely heard her. “I’m gonna stay here an’ have a drink with my mates. Go home and make dinner, yeah?”

Rose nodded obediently, letting him peck her on the lips before exiting the pub on her own. She took the Tube home instead of walking, eager to get a couple of hours to herself, and spent a little bit of her solitude listening to music (her own preference, instead of what Jimmy liked) whilst making dinner. She put his portion in the fridge and ate her own, read _Great Expectations_ on the chesterfield and had a good cry into her throw pillow when Miss Havisham died. It wasn’t until well into the night, and Rose had fallen asleep with the book on her stomach, that Jimmy returned with a loud crashing noise that startled Rose out of her sleep. Rubbing her eyes, she opened them to see Jimmy, ruffled-looking with a giggling blonde on his arm. 

Rose sat up abruptly, hurt and the beginnings of a tantrum flooding her insides at the sight of another woman — another _blonde_ woman — draped over _her_ boyfriend. Jimmy, clearly completely wasted, blinked at her lazily as though wondering why she was there. A flicker of alarm flashed over his face before he turned to the other blonde woman. “Out.”

She pouted. “But Jimmy—”

“You heard me,” he snapped, giving her his signature do-it-or-get-thumped glare.

Sticking her fake nose in the air and huffing, the other woman left. Rose sat still as a statue, furious eyes locked on Jimmy, who was now stumbling over to the fridge like nothing had happened. But it _had_ happened. And it was about damn time Rose Marion Tyler stood up to Jimmy Stone. 

Before she could go into the rant she was formulating in her head, he glanced over to her through half-opened eyes and sneered, “That Dickens shit again? Y’know, readin’ that stuff ain’t gonna make you clever.”

“Gonna explain yourself?” Rose snarled, ignoring his hurtful jibe. 

“Don’t need to,” he said swiftly, cracking opening a can of Coke and sipping from it, needing a couple of tries to get it to his mouth. 

“You think?” she fumed, tossing the book on the floor and standing forcefully. “ _My_ bloke just flounced in with some bloomin’ bimbo and it don’t need explain, does it?” 

“Maybe I’m just bloody tired of lookin’ at your ugly body,” he shot at her, clumsily putting down his Coke and glaring daggers at her. 

His comment hurt, but not enough to quench her fire. “Is this somethin’ you do often then? Bring home bitches to suck your cock ‘cos you ain’t got the balls to stay monogamous—”

His fist flew out of nowhere connected with the side of her face; her head snapped back and she tripped over the leg of the coffee table, landing on the floor with a loud bang. Lying on the ground, cheek throbbing, she felt Jimmy stumble past her and enter their bedroom, heard him slam the door. Trying to be as quiet as possible, Rose curled up into a ball and cried silently into the rug.

*

Susan Foreman watched as the strange blonde woman flashed her an apologetic smile and hurried off after the obnoxious-sounding male voice. Shock was flooding her system.

Rose. She said her name was Rose. 

Susan hastened out of the pub before anyone spotted her, since to humans she appeared to be under age. She found the Doctor in a bookstore, poring over the bookshelves. He jumped when she called his name before positively beaming at her. “Susan! Look what I’ve found!” The Doctor held up a weathered, antique-looking, leather-bound first edition copy of _David Copperfield_. “It’s in awful condition — silly apes have no idea how to treat their valuables — but I could repair it and bring it back to mint condition! Perhaps I’ll even go back and ask Mr. Dickens to sign it for me! Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful, to meet Charles Dickens?”

Susan giggled. “Yes, Grandfather, we’ll go back and meet Mr. Dickens if you wish.” Her grandfather made a happy noise in the back of his throat and turned back eagerly to the collection of books on the shelf before him. “Er, Grandfather?”

“Yes, my dear Susan?” 

“I’ve just been to see that woman you met at the pub.”

The Doctor’s entire face seemed to turn magenta, and upon swallowing he said in a forcibly disinterested tone, “Oh?”

Susan nodded. “Yes, she was singing at the pub again.”

The Doctor looked angry. “Now, Susan, you’d better not have gone inside. I know perfectly well you’re more than old enough to go in, but they don’t, and I’d rather you not have a criminal record during our time here.”

“Grandfather, she said her name was Rose Tyler,” Susan said, ignoring him.

He froze for a brief moment before turning his head to properly look at Susan, who was bearing a secret smile. He huffed. “Rose Tyler,” he said, liking the way it sounded on his tongue. “And?”

“Rose, Grandfather,” Susan said, smiling growing. “ _Rose_.”

The Doctor waved his free hand idly. “It is simple coincidence.”

“But you said yourself, she wasn’t fooled by psychic paper at first,” Susan said insistently, gripping her grandfather’s arm. 

“There is _nothing_ special about the girl,” he said firmly. “If she were clever enough not to be fooled by psychic paper, she would know enough to get rid of the pathetic excuse of a man she calls her _boyfriend_ ,” he added, spitting out the word like it was something disgusting. 

“If you say so, Grandfather,” Susan sighed, crossing her arms and shaking her head sadly at his stubbornness. 

He seemed to take that as an acceptance and smiled softly, drawing his granddaughter into a hug. She hummed and hugged him back tightly, _David Copperfield_ squished between them. Smoothing back her hair with one hand, the Doctor mumbled her name lovingly into her ear. 

“ _Arkytior._ ”

*

When Rose woke up, Jimmy was gone and it was late in the morning. Her cheek throbbed and her eyes burned with the previous night’s tears and fresh ones that came with the remembrance of yesterday. She forced herself to rise from the ground, limbs stiff and skin cold, and she dragged herself into the bedroom to call in sick, as she was already late anyway and had no desire whatsoever to be glanced at pityingly by her co-workers. The manager believed her, apparently thinking her choked tone of voice from trying not to burst into tears again was a cold or something. Rose wanted to curl up in bed and sleep until she felt better, but she didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as Jimmy had (probably with someone other than her), and she knew she’d mess up her sleep patterns, so instead she padded into the en suite and took a shower. The water felt good on her stiff muscles and her bruise, and she had another good sob in there until it felt exhausting rather than liberating. 

After her shower she did her makeup, trying to cover up the bruise with foundation and failing more than she thought she would. Instead, she kept her bangs slightly further to the right than she usually had them, so they concealed her bruise. Even though she wasn’t going to work, she didn’t want to spend the day in the house moping (as well as in case Jimmy came back, since the last thing she wanted to see right now was him) so she changed into a pair of tight jeans and a vest top to suit the summer air, snatched up her handbag and _Great Expectations_ off the floor and left the flat. 

She took the Tube uptown to the Thames, unconsciously putting as much distance between herself and her pathetic excuse of a boyfriend as she could, and walked into Victoria Tower Gardens, intent on plopping down on a bench and escaping from her stupid life into her book. 

Instead, she watched Susan’s grandfather clamber out of what looked from a distance to be a large, blue wooden box. Frowning, Rose tucked her book under her arm, ran her hands through her hair to make absolutely certain her bruise was covered (the last thing she needed was to see his smug I-told-you-so look) and approached him as he turned his back to everyone and locked the box. “Hello there.”

He actually jumped, turning his wide eyes on her. “Young lady! Whatever are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” she said airily, narrowing her eyes at the box-thing. “Came here to read and then I spotted you comin’ out of a blue box.” Before he could answer, Rose’s attention had been turned to the box. She could hear gentle humming coming from it, the melody foreign, lilting and beautiful. “Is someone in there?”

He frowned in confusion. “Er, no. Why?”

“I swear I can hear...” she started to say, but then noticed his downright shocked expression had returned again, like the one he’d had when she said his bills were blank. She shook her head and smiled. “Never mind. What the hell were you doin’ in there anyway?” 

“It need not concern you,” he said swiftly, steering her away from the mysterious singing box before his eyes darted down to the book clamped to her body. “What are you reading?” 

She glanced down at it and waved it idly at him. “Oh, s’just _Great Expectations_.”

“Charles Dickens!” he burst out, and Rose looked at him only to see him wearing that earth-shattering beam again. 

“Yeah, you like him?” Rose said, grinning at him, tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth. 

His eyes zeroed in on her tongue for a brief moment before returning to her eyes. “His literature is brilliant.”

Rose nodded enthusiastically. “Completely brilliant. What’s your favourite story?”

He tugged on his jacket, looking almost smug. “ _David Copperfield_.”

“Ah, that’s the only story I haven’t read by him yet!” Rose laughed. 

They plopped down on a bench together, him leaning back and Rose turned almost fully so she could regard him. “Oh? What did you think of _Oliver Twist_ , child?” 

She had the feeling he was testing her knowledge, and for the first time in ages she felt particularly clever when she answered swiftly, “It was fantastic. Cried for an hour when Sikes murdered Nancy, ‘cos she was so sweet to Oliver.”

His grin seemed to grow at her answer. “What of Fagin?” 

“A stereotypically grotesque character.”

“Stereotypically?”

Rose nodded, frowning a little. “He was Jewish, yeah? And he was portrayed in the book like the classic Jewish villain— ugly, cruel to children, almost sociopathic and nearly completely remorseless.”

He nodded, looking pleased with her, almost proud. “Indeed, our man Dickens seemed to be something of an anti-Semite, although he claimed otherwise.” He peered down at her, still smiling like she’d just told him the answer to life’s greatest question. “And what of Sikes’ dog? Had it any relevance?”

Rose nodded, completely engrossed. “Absolutely. Dickens used heavy symbolism on Sikes’ dog; it was like the dog was Sikes’ shadow, following him around wherever he went, even into death.” 

He beamed. “You’re clever, child.”

Rose snorted. “No I’m not.”

The smile disappeared at once. “Why do you think so?”

She shrugged. “‘M just not.” Then, because he’d probably ask anyway, being a nosy git, she added, “I didn’t finish school.” 

“Neither did Charles Dickens,” he said almost flatly, though he gave her a knowing smile.

Rose laughed. “Touché.” They sat in what Rose thought to be a comfortable silence for a bit, until she noticed him fidgeting next to her and frowning at his knees. With an amused sigh she said, “Go on, ask it. I know you’re dying to.”

“Whatever do you mean, child?” he asked airily, though his eyes twinkled. 

“Ask if it was _his_ fault I didn’t finish school,” Rose said.

He hesitated at first, but when he understood she wouldn’t get angry at him this time when she sent him another grin, he said quietly, “It was him, yes?”

She nodded, looking out onto the River Thames. “Yep.”

Curiosity took hold and he turned fully towards her, looking contemplative. “How did you come across him?”

“Met Jimmy when I was seventeen. Everyone on the Estates wanted him, ‘cos he was fit and older and talented.” Rose snorted. “He told me he’d take me to see the world, ‘cos I’ve always wanted to travel.”

“Y-you have?” he all but stammered.

Rose nodded absently. “Yeah, but not just take two weeks in Egypt, don’t drink the water, see a pyramid and then go home. I mean like actual travelling. Makin’ a difference in other countries, helpin’ people and things.” 

Rose lost herself in a reverie of her old desires while the man looked down at the grass, looking slightly shocked. Then, breaking her out of her thoughts, he said tentatively, “What about... what about in space?” 

Rose laughed, eyes lighting up. “Oh, I think I’d _die_ if I had the chance to go into space.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking almost as excited as she did. 

“Yeah!” Rose said happily. “And I mean, like, not just goin’ up on the moon or in the space station, I mean like to the other planets and stuff.” She sighed, not noticing the man was beaming again. “S’not gonna happen in my lifetime, though.”

“Perhaps,” he said airily, realising he was smiling at her like a buffoon and trying to shape his expression into neutrality (and failing). 

“What’s your name, anyway?” Rose said suddenly.

“Beg pardon?” 

“Your name,” she repeated. “We’ve met like three times and you haven’t told me your name.”

“Er,” he said, tugging at his lapels. Briefly he wondered whether or not he should lie and say his name was John Smith, but one look at her tongue-in-teeth smile and he resolved to say, “I am the Doctor.”

“Doctor what?”

He smiled. “Just the Doctor.”

She quirked an eyebrow and said, trying out his name, “The Doctor. That’s your _name_?” She shook her head, chuckling. “Blimey, you’re an odd one.”

“Oi!” he exclaimed indignantly, though he half-smiled. 

“Well you are! You’re a man called ‘the Doctor’ of all things, who tried to pay for a dress with a weird stick thing—”

“Er...”

“— and then a thing of bills that were all blank, until they weren’t, who I then spotted comin’ out of a weird singing box—”

“ _What_?”

“— who also loves Charles Dickens, and who, by the way, is bloody nosy,” Rose finished, tongue in teeth again as he flushed. 

“Well, there’s something to be said for you as well, Miss Rose Tyler,” the Doctor said lightly, her name flowing out of his mouth so naturally it shocked him a bit. “Not many young women your age are clever enough to understand the points of a character in classic literature and have dreams to travel the stars.” 

“Maybe we’re just two Dickens-loving nutters,” Rose quipped, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Perhaps,” he chuckled. His face suddenly paled, all trace of his previous peaceful happiness replaced with a look of horror. “What in Rassilon’s name is _that_?”

Rose frowned and opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about before his hand suddenly shot out and brushed aside her hair; her stomach swooped when she remembered the bruise Jimmy had give n her yesterday night. The Doctor looked absolutely furious as he trailed his thumb over the bump, making her shiver. 

“S’just a bruise,” Rose said dismissively, not making any move to push his hand away.

“ _He_ did it, didn’t he?” spat the Doctor, looking like he wanted to hunt down Jimmy and kick his arse. “Are you all right? Did he hit you anywhere else? Did—?”

He looked so frantic and panicky that Rose let go of _Great Expectations_ and slipped her hands up to cradle his face, which slackened immediately at her gesture. “Doctor, I’m fine.”

He still looked worried, even with her assurances, and it was a jolt of astonishment to Rose’s system when he whispered, “He hurt you. Please don’t stay with him.” 

It was like he was begging her. She felt bad for getting angry with him, especially if he was this concerned about her. It was... kind of sweet. She never had anyone looking out for her but herself for a long time. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes but she blinked them back. 

Deciding, for both herself and for him, she mumbled, “I’m not gonna.” 

He looked relieved, and without warning he pulled her into a hug. For the first millisecond Rose was rigid, until she obediently relaxed into his hold, burying her face in his shoulder. Jimmy never held her anymore, not even after sex. And there was something about the man who called himself the Doctor, who cared and worried for her, a perfect stranger, that made Rose want to melt into his embrace and be immortalised that way. 

When he went rigid, as if realising what he’d just done, Rose pulled away slowly and mumbled, “How’m I gonna do it, though?” 

“What do you mean?” the Doctor asked, still holding one of her hands, eternally glad she had broken the awkward moment with speech. 

“He’ll be furious,” Rose mumbled, almost ashamed. “He’ll get so angry.”

“I will not let him hurt you,” he assured her, in a voice so determined it startled even himself. 

She smiled at him, so sweetly his brain short-circuited. “All right.” They both jumped as Big Ben chimed noon behind them, breaking the gentle moment. “Blimey, is that the time already?” Rose gasped, jumping up and picking up _Great Expectations_ from the ground. “I’ve got to go.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, trying not to look too disappointed and standing as well. “Goodbye to you, Rose Tyler.”

“Goodbye, Doctor,” Rose said, giving him another tongue-touched grin. “I’ll see you later, yeah? And next time, I won’t be with Jimmy.”

He beamed at her even as she turned her back on him and walked away.

*

The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors and stepped into the console room, giving the TARDIS a distracted half-smile when she hummed at him in greeting. Ever since that Rose Tyler woman had left, he’d thought of her non-stop, and it was starting to make him nervous. He kept repeating that day’s events over in his mind like a private film, making him feel a maelstrom of emotions ranging from worry that that arse of a human might hurt her, to hope that she really would leave him and something warm and fuzzy that made a smile come to his mouth whenever he thought of her. Clever Rose Tyler. She loved Charles Dickens, which was a plus, and she was able to understand the finer points of his books even though she hadn’t finished school. He scowled at the time rotor when he thought of that. It was all because of _him_ that she hadn’t grown up to be a philosopher or something. He cared for her, a little more than he should, and the thought of her being struck by that _arse_ made his stomach churn. She promised to leave him, and relief welled up inside of him like a volcanic eruption in the making. Then — his face heated up when he remembered this — he’d swept her into a hug in the heat of the moment. She smelled wonderful, like vanilla and her namesake. 

He felt bad about initially thinking she was just another stupid girl— he’d called her ‘child’ at first because that’s what she had been to him, nothing more than a human child, but now he saw her as a clever young woman who had potential the size of Mount Perdition, and ‘child’ was now an ancient term he could never again use with her. 

And she had dreams of seeing space and helping people.

The TARDIS hummed with delight at that thought, and the Doctor grinned up at the ceiling. “Strange, is it not? A London girl who wishes to travel among the stars runs into the only alien in the world with a time-and-spaceship.” His ship chimed in his mind and suggested he invite her aboard, which made him chuckle almost sadly. “Don’t be silly. Humans can’t comprehend our world; she wouldn’t believe anything I tell her.” 

Before his ship could reply, Susan opened the TARDIS doors and walked into the console room, still dressed in her school uniform. “Evening, Grandfather.”

“Good evening, Susan,” the Doctor said, not taking his hands off the console even as he turned to smile at her. “How was school?”

“I passed my science test with bonus marks, Grandfather. Mister Chesterton was really pleased!”

“Excellent, Susan.”

They stood in a brief silence as Susan rummaged around in her handbag for her textbooks.

“I think you may be right about that Rose Tyler woman, Susan,” the Doctor said quietly, even as he patted the turquoise console and let the TARDIS’s gentle hum wash over his mind. 

“Why, Grandfather?”

“I met her in the park today, reading _Great Expectations_ ,” the Doctor mumbled, and Susan giggled. “You were right. She is remarkably bright.” He paused. “She could also hear the TARDIS.” Susan gasped. “And she says she’s always wanted to travel, to help people... and to go into space,” he added on a mumble.

Susan beamed and clutched her hands to her chest. “Do you still believe this is all a coincidence?” 

The Doctor sighed. “No, Susan, I do not. I do believe Rose Tyler is — or will be — something particularly special.”

Susan gawked at the starry-eyed, almost soft expression that came across his face. Her stuffy old grandfather, making a face like that! “Grandfather, do you love her?”

Face heating up like the twin suns of the constellation of Kasterborous, the Doctor spluttered for a bit before fuming heatedly, “Susan, do not be ridiculous! I do not _love_ Rose Tyler!” 

His ship did the equivalent of a scoff of insistence before showing him images of Rose Tyler taken straight from his memories, of her with that charming smile of hers. He’d unconsciously counted how many times she’d smiled at him with her tongue caught between her teeth, and the total was four, and all right, maybe he _had_ noticed that she was a relatively beautiful human as far as humans went, but he wasn’t in _love_ with her. 

_Not yet_ , the TARDIS smirked in the back of his mind.

Susan nodded, even though she was clearly fighting back a big smile. “Whatever you say, Grandfather.” Susan bounced past him clutching her textbooks so she could study, leaving him in the console room, red-faced and disgruntled.

*

Jackie Tyler was having a good day. Not only did she manage to get everything done that she’d been putting off for ages, she and Bev had had a great shopping day; she had also managed to catch at the last minute the new _EastEnders_ (and spent the whole of it squealing with delight) and Howard had come over for a quickie, so all in all she was pretty happy. All of that paled in comparison to answering the doorbell and finding her only daughter on the other end of it holding her rucksack and bearing a half-smile. 

“OH, MY ROSIE!” Jackie all but screamed, tossing herself through the doorway and flinging her arms around her daughter to pull her into a bear hug. 

“ _Unh_ , hi Mum,” Rose grunted, having to drop her rucksack to return the hug. 

“What’s all this then?” Jackie said, gesturing toward the rucksack once she pulled away.

Rose’s eyes skimmed to the floor and her hand flew up to play with her earring. “Um... I left him, Mum. Jimmy.”

Jackie beamed at her daughter. “Oh, Rose, sweetheart! What made you come to?” 

Rose ducked her head again, realising her bruise was still hidden by her hair. “A lot of things, Mum.”

“Well, ‘m not complainin’, I’ll tell you that! Does this mean you’re movin’ back in? I’ve got your room still set up an’ everything! Oh, I have to ring Bev and tell her!” 

Jackie ushered her daughter inside, beaming enough to light a room, and put the kettle on while Rose went to dump her things in her room (she didn’t ring Bev; even she knew that, if she did, the conversation wouldn’t end for hours). Jackie made Rose a cuppa and they sat down at the table together so Rose could tell her what had transpired. 

“Well, for starters, he hit me again,” Rose began, showing her mother the bruise. Jackie looked about ready to go into rant-mode, so Rose quickly continued, “It’s sort of silly how I realised I needed to just up and leave, actually. Was comin’ out of the pub with Jimmy, ‘cos we just had a gig, yeah, and when Jimmy goes round back to get our pay for the night, this old bloke just blurts out that I should kick him to the curb.” Rose shook her head, chuckling softly at the antics of the Doctor she now regarded fondly. “I got mad at first, yeah, but then like two weeks later the same bloke shows up at Henrik’s.”

“Was he stalking you?” Jackie asked, looking nervous. 

“That’s what I thought at first! Turned out he was just looking for a prom dress for his granddaughter, Susan. Oh, Mum, you’d love Susan, she’s the sweetest teenager you’d ever meet. Came to the pub to apologise for her grandfather bein’ a nosy git.”

Rose giggled just as Jackie narrowed her eyes. “So what does this bloke have to do with you leavin’ Jimmy?” 

“Well, it was just after Jimmy hit me,” Rose said, avoiding her mother’s eye. “Went to Victoria Tower Gardens to read and spotted him comin’ out some odd blue box. Ended up spending the rest of the morning talkin’ about Charles Dickens and things. Then he saw the bruise and...” Rose bit her lip, suddenly becoming contemplative. “He just... flipped, Mum. You shoulda seen him, he actually _begged_ me to leave Jimmy. I promised him I would, an’ I did. Just up and left. Didn’t even leave him a note, not that he deserved one.” 

Jackie’s lips were pursed. “When you say ‘older bloke’—”

Rose’s face flamed. “Mum, s’not like that! He’s got a granddaughter!” 

“That don’t mean he ain’t just another lonely older bloke tryin’ to take advantage of a young lady, Rose. How old is he?”

“Fifty, maybe, sixty... I dunno, I didn’t ask!” Rose snorted. “Besides, he wouldn’t want someone like me anyway. He’s like this sophisticated old bloke and calls me ‘child’ all the time.”

“What’s his name?”

“The Doctor.”

“Doctor who?”

Rose grinned, tongue between her teeth as she repeated the Doctor’s own words, “Just the Doctor.”

Jackie did a double-take. “That’s not his name, that’s an occupation!” 

“Tell him that, not me!” Rose laughed. “Trust me, Mum, he’s probably not lying. He’s the oddest bloke I’ve ever met.”

“D’you love him?” 

Rose flushed scarlet and half-shouted, “Mum, don’t be ridiculous! I just left Jimmy!”

Jackie shrugged. “Whatever you say.” She paused. “Maybe I ought to invite him over for dinner.”

“Why, to see if he’s just an older Jimmy?” Rose said, narrowing her eyes. 

“Maybe,” said Jackie airily. “I also need to thank the bloke who saved my daughter from Jimmy Stone! So, go on, what’s his number?” she added, phone already in hand. 

“I dunno his number, Mum, or if he even has one,” Rose muttered. 

“Well then, what the bloody hell did you talk about the whole time?”

Rose went red. “Um, Charles Dickens.” 

Jackie burst into laughter. Rose half-hid her face in her hands, waiting until her mother stopped. Jackie re-emerged a moment later, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “Oh, Rose, no wonder you’ve got an old codger lustin’ after you.”

“ _Mum_ , he’s not—”

“All right, let’s try it this way. Tomorrow afternoon we’ll go to Victoria Tower Gardens an’ see if he’s hangin’ around there, an’ if he is you can invite him over! Oh, and that Susan girl too, I s’pose.”

Rose bit her lip, not entirely certain whether or not she ought to agree. As much as she’d love to have the Doctor and Susan over to show her appreciation, her mother could be unbelievably embarrassing and would probably seize the first chance she got to drill the Doctor and ask if he was shagging her. 

“I suppose,” she mumbled.

Jackie beamed. “Brilliant! Then it’s settled. Now, I have to go and phone Bev; she’ll just _die_ when she hears the news!”

Rose stood from the table and headed into her old (now current) room to unpack her things. Tossing most of her clothes in the bin to be washed, as she rarely had the time to do laundry when living with Jimmy (and it wasn’t like they could afford a washer) Rose faltered when she came to the old, written-on copy of _Great Expectations_. It was Jimmy’s, but when she was cleaning out their flat of her stuff she found herself slipping it into her bag. Besides, it wasn’t like he was ever going to read it. Rose put it on her tiny shelf next to a couple of old magazines, cringing at her empty shelf and wishing she had more classic literature than a severely-mistreated _Great Expectations_. 

Then it hit her. She had actually just left Jimmy. Tears swam in her eyes as she found herself thinking about the good times she’d had with him, but before she could go into a crying fit, an image of the Doctor’s delighted smile bloomed clear in her mind. Rose wiped her eyes, refusing to cry or feel upset about her decision, because when she took a moment to add up the pros and cons of leaving him, the pros severely outnumbered the cons. She’d tell the Doctor what she’d done, and he’d be proud of her. 

And if that was all that mattered to her, well, that was her business.

*

The next morning was a bright Saturday, which gave Rose ample opportunity to sleep in instead of having to get up and go to work. Instead of padding out into her old tiny kitchen to cook Jimmy breakfast, Rose woke to the smell of her mum’s traditional English breakfast. Jackie fussed over her daughter the whole morning, refilling her mug with tea every time Rose got low and even insisting that they sit down and watch a film like they used to. It was wonderful, having her mum dote on her instead of it being the other way around; Rose had forgotten what it was like to have somebody else looking out for her other than herself, and she spent a good twenty minutes crying on her mum’s shoulder whilst snuggling in front of _Pretty Woman_. 

When it came time to head to the park, Rose was feeling jittery, nervous and excited all at once. She actually found herself amidst a pile of her clothes, wondering what to wear, before realising with a blush that the Doctor wouldn’t give a flying fuck what she wore and that she was being stupid, so she ended up closing her eyes and choosing whatever she picked up, which turned out to be (embarrassingly) a tight vest top and a pair of skinny denim jeans. 

Rose and Jackie walked to Victoria Tower Gardens, Rose secretly keeping an eye out for a certain blue box just in case he came out of it again (she wouldn’t hold it past him) and it wasn’t long before they arrived and Jackie swanned off to chat up a stranger, leaving Rose in the bright sunshine by herself. One quick sweep around the park with her eyes caught on not a police box nor a white-haired Doctor, but a pixie-like little brunette at the waterfront. 

Rose grinned and she waved vigorously, calling out, “Susan!” 

Susan turned on her heel, face splitting into a beam that almost startled Rose. “Miss Rose!” To Rose’s immense surprise, and delight, Susan jogged up to her and pulled her into a chaste but tight hug. Pulling back, Susan said, still beaming, “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Susan, thanks,” Rose said happily, pleased with the excited greeting. “You?”

“Grandfather and I are doing wonderfully, thank you Miss Rose,” Susan said. 

“Just call me Rose, Susan, don’t need to call me Miss.” 

“Rose?” came the astonished, tentative voice of the Doctor from behind her. 

Susan beamed again and stepped back so Rose could whirl around and take in the wide-eyed Doctor who looked both taken aback and slightly hopeful. By default she felt a grin growing on her mouth, and upon calling out happily, “Doctor!” she hurried over to him and tossed her arms around his neck. 

Instead of going rigid, like she’d expected, he immediately slipped his hands round her waist and hugged her close, burying his face in her hair, and her heart started to beat in her throat. They rocked on their feet together, warm in their embrace and their own little world and the warm cascade of sunlight, neither aware that Susan was clutching her hands to her chest and looking close to squealing and Jackie was staring at them with her jaw dropped to the ground, the handsome stranger next to her forgotten. It wasn’t until Rose remembered both the previous day’s decision and her mother’s desired invitation that Rose (extremely reluctantly) pulled back.

“I did it,” she told him, keeping her arms on his shoulders. 

His face positively lit up in a way that had nothing to do with the sunlight. “You left him?” 

She nodded, and he beamed, looking so proud of her it made tears well up in her eyes. Bursting out, “ _Oh, my dear girl_!” he picked her up and spun her around, with shocking strength for a man his age, whatever his age was, and she laughed delightedly to cover up the embarrassingly thrilling fact that his hands were on her bottom. He seemed to realise what he’d just done and set her down hastily, whipping his hands off her bum, face burning when he remembered Susan was in close proximity and she had probably seen every second of that.

To erase the moment of awkwardness (and because he had just swept his eyes over her exposed cleavage without thinking) the Doctor said quickly, “Tell me what happened.” 

Since he was fidgeting with his hands, undecided on whether he should stick them in his pockets, rock them back and forth at his sides or run them through his already combed-back hair, she took them in hers and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Nothing, really. Just packed up all my things and left. Didn’t even leave him a note or say goodbye or anything.”

“He doesn’t deserve a goodbye,” snorted the Doctor, before hoping he hadn’t just been rude again and made her hate him.

To his immense relief, she smiled gently. “No, he didn’t; that’s why I didn’t give him one.”

He smiled back at her, in what he was certain was probably something soppy-looking — he tried not to think ‘enamoured’ — before realising she didn’t have _Great Expectations_ with her. Daring for a moment to think she actually wanted his company, he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful, “Whyever did you come to the park, Rose?”

Blushing a little at her intended answer, and because he’d just used her name so casually, she said, “Well, I’ve moved back in with my mum, and I’ve told her about you, so we want to have you and Susan round for dinner tonight. If-if you want to,” she added quickly.

His face went slightly slack at that, blinking as though he were disoriented. Surely he couldn’t have heard her properly. But she was standing there, still gripping his hands with her lovely cheeks flushed slightly pink and looking expectant, so he managed to force out, “How terribly domestic.”

He inwardly cursed himself — why was he so bloody rude? — but Rose simply giggled and brushed her thumb over his knuckles affectionately. “Yeah, I s’pose it’s that.”

With a (hopefully) charming grin to cover up the nervousness/excitement bubbling in his chest, he raised one of her hands to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles, hoping the glazed look in her eyes at the gesture wasn’t just his imagination. “Susan and I would be honoured, Rose Tyler.” 

She beamed, and there he went again, feeling light-headed and probably drooling a bit. “Brilliant! I’ll write down the address, if you’ve a pen an’ paper...?”

Reluctantly, he released one of her hands to dig around in his pockets again, and Rose could _swear_ his pockets were bigger on the inside if she didn’t know that was against the laws of physics. “Ah, here we are!” he said triumphantly, pulling out a notepad and pen combination from a hotel on Eden Prime and handing it to her.

Rose narrowed her eyes at the logo on the notepad. “Eden Prime?” she read aloud. “What’s that?”

“Er, a popular hotel chain in North America,” he lied quickly, trying not to look too flustered. “Susan and I visited there once.”

“Sounds like something they’d name a planet,” Rose observed, too absentmindedly for it to be anything but a coincidence.

 _Bollocks_ , she was so attentive and clever! “Erm, perhaps.”

Rose shrugged and motioned with a twirl of her finger for him to turn around. He complied, and she used his back as a surface to write down her address and her number, blushing when she found herself thinking about how he had a nice bum. She tore off the page and handed it back to him when he turned around, along with his other things. The pen and notepad he stuffed haphazardly into his pockets, but the address he seemed to cradle. 

“Any particular time you would prefer?” the Doctor asked. 

“Come whenever,” Rose grinned, poking her tongue between her teeth, holding it there a moment longer than usual when his eyes flickered between it and her face. “See you then, yeah?” 

“Yes, yes,” he smiled, and for the first time, he had the sudden urge to lean over and kiss her, but he refrained because it would undoubtedly not be welcomed. “Until then, fair Rose Tyler.”

She smiled and blushed ever so becomingly at the endearment he’d unconsciously added on, and with one final squeeze of his hand she turned and walked back to an older-looking, gaping blonde woman whom the Doctor hoped with all his might wasn’t her mother. As he watched Rose walk away, arm in arm with the woman, Susan sidled up to him looking mischievous.

“Are you sure you aren’t in love with her, Grandfather?” Susan said quietly.

He opened his mouth to snap at her, but it got caught in his throat and instead he sighed. “Not anymore, Susan.” 

All the meanwhile, Rose walked away with Jackie, who was practically having a conniption right next to her. “How the sodden hell d’you think he’s not into you, Rosie?” 

“‘Cos he’s not, Mum!”

Jackie scoffed. “I just saw him pick you up by your _bum_ and twirl you about lookin’ like you just agreed to marry him.”

Rose flushed and kicked at non-existent dust. “That never happened before ‘til today.” 

“What changed? Jimmy did, then?”

“Yeah, Mum,” Rose said, shooting Jackie a glare. “But not in the way you think. He was just proud of me for dumpin’ him finally.” 

“Well there’s no denying that, not from the way he looked before,” Jackie said. “But the rest of the times he looked nervous as a rabbit and like he wanted to snog you into the ground. You looked the same, actually,” Jackie added, looking pointedly at her flushing daughter. “You don’t actually want to snog him, do you?”

Rose fidgeted and mumbled something that sounded like, “Wouldn’t mind.”

“He’s not even your type!” Jackie burst out, jaw on the ground. “Thought you liked ‘em young and fit!”

“Yeah, look where that got me,” Rose muttered, rubbing her still bruised cheek. 

“Yeah, but that aside, what about him is so bloody special?”

Rose turned, hands on her hips. “Y’wanna know, Mum? He may be old enough to be my dad, but he doesn’t treat me like he’s an all-knowing adult and I’m this young, annoying little girl. Well, not anymore,” Rose mumbled, remembering their first encounter. “He calls me clever ‘cos I read Charles Dickens and can get the symbolism in _Oliver Twist_. He thinks it’s something fantastic when I say I want to travel in space, instead of callin’ it ridiculous and unobtainable. An’ he actually _likes_ my company instead of tolerates it. We can talk about actual things, yeah, instead of who shagged who and which celebrity’s guest-starring on _EastEnders_. Plus,” she added, flushing to the ends of her hair, “whenever he smiles, it makes him look years younger.”

If Jackie’s jaw had gotten any lower, she would have tripped over it. Blimey, her daughter had it bad. “Sweetheart, did you ever even stop an’ think about a certain something?”

“What?”

“The fact that he has a _granddaughter_ , and for one to have a _granddaughter_ one must also have a _daughter_ , etcetera, etcetera?” 

Rose’s heart dropped into her stomach. She hadn’t thought about that at all. She wondered briefly if he had a wife and she was just some young thing he was playing around with, before realising something and saying, “He’s so lonely, though, Mum. It doesn’t seem to me like he’s got anyone except Susan.”

Jackie hummed, scrutinising her daughter, who looked a bit down. Slipping an arm round Rose’s shoulder, she gave her a squeeze. “Tell you what. We’re seein’ him tonight at dinner. You can prove to me he’s this fantastic bloke, and I’ll support you, no matter what. Even if you want to shag him,” Jackie added, and Rose’s face could have caught fire. “Now that I mention it, he _does_ have a fit bum.”

Rose burst into laughter, clutching her mother for support. Well, at least she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

*

When it came time to make dinner for the Doctor and Susan, Rose refused to let Jackie help with anything besides telling her where she kept certain utensils. Cooking for Jimmy for the past six years had made her an excellent cook and she set out to make the most fantastic dinner she’s ever made, determined to give the Doctor another reason to admire her besides her ability to pick apart _Oliver Twist_. Rose flitted about the kitchen, bouncing on the balls of her feet whilst making dinner and even humming at one point before Jackie started to snicker at her and she stopped. Jackie left briefly to go to a shop and pick up some rolls and wine for dinner, returning with two bottles of relatively expensive stuff (“Old codger like that, bet he likes his wine expensive and aged!” Jackie scoffed), returning after a brief period of time, which gave Rose enough time to touch up her make-up (Jackie clearly noticed, though she didn’t do anything but smirk). Eventually the kitchen smelled of delicious oven-roasted garlic potatoes, baked spiced chicken and seasoned vegetables. 

Jackie wafted in after watching her _EastEnders_ , sniffing the air. “Rose, that smells bloody brilliant!” 

Rose, who had already dished out all of the food onto plates, kept glancing over it to make sure there wasn’t a vegetable askew or something. “D’you reckon?”

Jackie fluffed her daughter’s hair, beaming. “Yeah. My Rosie, London’s greatest chef! S’probably the only good thing that came out of your relationship with that Jimmy wanker.”

“That and Charles Dickens,” Rose mumbled, grinning despite herself. 

“... never used to be able to cook, you, always made a mess of everything,” Jackie continued, oblivious to her daughter’s comment. “Remember that time I tried showin’ you how to make bread, and I came back ten minutes later and the dough was on the ceiling?” Jackie collapsed into giggles. “An’ you say you had no idea how it got up there!” She wiped her eyes. “But you did good here, love. That Doctor bloke better ’ppreciate it, too. I’ll tell him you slaved over the oven for hours.”

“You will _not_ ,” Rose ordered, flushing.

“Well, s’true,” Jackie shrugged. “At least this time the food stayed off my ceiling.”

Rose opened her mouth to tell her mum off for bringing up her younger self’s escapades when there was a extremely soft, timid-sounding knock at the door, followed by Susan’s voice giggling, “Grandfather, you ought to knock harder than that!”, then a disgruntled response of, “I know how to do it, Susan,” and another louder knock. 

Panic welled up in her chest despite the overheard adorable exchange between grandfather and granddaughter, but it was quelled when Jackie abruptly positioned herself in front of her terrified-looking daughter and gave her hair another fluff.

“You look lovely,” she told Rose, who gave her a pointed look. “Just push your tits up a bit and—”

“Mum, no!” 

Rose fought the urge to hide in the kitchen and make her mum open the door, wanting to greet the Doctor and Susan herself. Internally she tried to calm herself by remembering that morning, how utterly thrilled he’d looked when she’d told him she’d dumped Jimmy, and that made her smile a little and open the door without ceremony. For a brief moment the Doctor stared at her just as he had when he’d first spotted her in the park, looking for all the world like he was shocked she was even looking at him let alone opening the door to invite him in, Susan half-hiding behind him and beaming into his coat. 

Sensing that this was probably going to go on for a bit if she didn’t stop it, Rose grinned at him, poking her tongue between her teeth. “Hello.”

She wished he’d look at her like that forever, where his whole look of shock crumbled into that soft — dare she say _loving_? — smile that chased away the weariness of age. “Hello.”

Susan didn’t add in her own greeting, knowing this moment was for Rose and her smitten grandfather. Instead she let herself be led in by Rose into their small but efficient council Estates flat, smiling politely at the older blonde woman who was scanning them over with a look that suggested she was trying to analyse them. 

“Um, Doctor, Susan,” Rose started, fidgeting a bit and shooting her mum a glare to get her to stop with the scrutinising looks. “This is my mum.”

“Jacqueline Tyler, call me Jackie,” Rose’s mother said, smiling with half-warmth half-motherly suspicion as she shook both of their hands. 

Once the awkward introductions were out of the way, Jackie led them to the table and they all sat down in front of the delicious-looking meal laid out almost professionally in front of them. Almost the moment they sat down next to each other (Jackie’s strategic seating plan being Rose to the Doctor’s left, Susan to his right and Jackie directly across from him so she could keep a sharp eye on him) the Doctor happened to glance over at Jackie’s film shelf and spotted old version of _the Count of Monte Cristo_. Rose followed his eyes when they lit up and, upon a flare of excitement over another classic story she’d read, their eyes met in a secret exchange of grins.

Without even pausing to ask whether or not she’d even read _the Count of Monte Cristo_ , the Doctor asked whilst popping a potato into his mouth, “Tell me, Rose, what did you think of the dynamic between Edmond and his two potential lovers?”

Susan beamed to herself and Jackie’s jaw hit the floor when Rose replied smoothly, “Mercedes represented to Edmond all that he’d lost, his youthful innocence, his freedom and his hopes while Haydee represented all that he could have in life now that he’s a man of experience and knowledge.”

Now Jackie knew precisely what Rose had been talking about when she’d mentioned the Doctor’s looks of pride. He was full-on beaming at her, looking like she’d just answered life’s great questions and he couldn’t be more proud of her. Jackie felt herself tearing up at that and stuffed a forkful of chicken into her mouth to prevent a sniffle from getting out. Their dynamic wasn’t that of a lonely old man lusting after a naive young girl like Rose, it was more like he was encouraging an equally lonely person to come out of her shell made from the stereotypes of where she’d come from and prove her brilliance, and that when she did, he’d been amazed at what he’d discovered. And he preferred to marvel in her cleverness without remarking to Jackie about it, strengthening Rose’s voiced theory that he didn’t view her as a younger party but rather his equal.

After they’d giggled over their shared analysis of French literature, Rose refrained from shooting him another tongue-in-teeth grin and turned her attention to Susan. “So, Susan, what are you doing in school?”

It didn’t seem like Rose was just asking to include Susan into the conversation; she was genuinely interested. It’d been ages since she last went to school and sometimes she even found herself missing it. With a knowing smile Susan said, “I’m focusing mainly on history and the sciences.”

“Susan continues to baffle her teachers with her brilliance,” said the Doctor, looking so proud it bordered on smug. “I’ve gotten several letters from Miss Wright and Mr. Chesserton.”

“Chesterton, Grandfather,” Susan corrected, she and Rose sharing an amused glance and a giggle. 

“Whatever,” the Doctor sniffed, waving his hand idly. 

“Speakin’ of school, is there anyone you’re going with to your prom, Susan?” Rose asked.

For the first time since Rose had met the little teenager, she blushed into her dinner. “Y-yes.”

The Doctor smirked whilst Rose and Jackie grinned. “Well, go on then, who’s the lucky one?”

“A-a fellow student, David Campbell,” Susan stammered.

“Aw, you fancy him!” Rose beamed, wanting to jump over to Susan and hug her. She remembered when she was Susan’s age (although Susan was a lot better behaved than Rose had been), fancying her schoolmates without any of the drama she had nowadays. 

They ate and talked and laughed; the Doctor managed to have Rose and Jackie almost on the floor with laughter when Jackie asked whether he’d watched _EastEnders_ and he’d asked, “Is that a horror programme?” Somewhere along the line the Doctor’s hand found Rose’s under the table, shocking her, but it wasn’t exactly like she wanted to pull away, so they held hands beneath the tablecloth and her heart raced the entire time, though she tried to pretend otherwise. It wasn’t until their plates were clean and she, the Doctor and Susan began chattering excitedly about the finer points of Agatha Christie’s _Murder on the Orient Express_ that Jackie started to get bored — she wasn’t a reader unless it was Harlequins or magazines — and changed the subject to Susan’s rather 1960s-looking wardrobe.

“Not that the ensemble isn’t gorgeous, sweetheart, but doesn’t that grandfather of yours take you out for some shopping?” Jackie said, shooting the Doctor a look as though he’d done something wrong. 

Giving the Doctor’s hand a squeeze when he looked affronted, Rose said, “I have some old clothes I was gonna give to charity, if you want them, Susan.”

Susan’s eyes lit up, reminding Rose once again of the Doctor’s whenever she mentioned something about Charles Dickens. “Really?”

Rose nodded and smiled. “‘Course. Hope you don’t mind pink, ‘cos that’s most of it.” 

As she and Susan rose, Rose gave the Doctor’s hand one last squeeze before letting go, his fingers trailing across her palm. After shooting her mum a warning glare not to bring up anything forbidden in front of the Doctor, Rose led Susan into her room, cringing at its messiness and heading straight for her bottom drawer where she kept all of her old clothes. Grabbing them by the bundle and plopping them on the unmade bed, Rose motioned for Susan to sit on the bed next to her as they began to pick apart Rose’s old clothes. Susan got a little shy when it came to taking off her shirt to try on one of Rose’s old shirts, but at Rose’s assurance of ‘we’re all girls here’ she obeyed, growing more comfortable after a bit.

“Rose?” Susan said, as Rose was holding one of her old tank tops and trying to picture Susan in it. 

“Hm?” 

“Do you love my grandfather?”

Rose’s head snapped up and she regarded Susan through wide eyes. It didn’t seem to be an accusation, more like a curious question. Playing with a hole in her duvet, Rose mumbled, “I dunno.” They were silent, and Rose chanced a glance at Susan, expecting to see her solemn; however the pixie-like teenager was beaming. “What?”

“Grandfather and I are all by ourselves,” Susan explained, still beaming away like Rose had just crowned her Queen. “I have a few friends at school, but he does not.” Rose felt a pang for the Doctor; lonely, just as she’d suspected. “It takes a lot to impress Grandfather, but he’s very taken with you, Rose.” 

Rose blushed to her toes, hiding her face in her tank top. “Yeah?”

Susan nodded before saying bluntly, “I do hope you and Grandfather decide to get together.”

Rose’s face nearly caught fire. She stumbled over her words for almost a full minute before saying, “Susan, I just came out of a relationship. It isn’t smart to jump into another.” 

_Besides, he doesn’t love you. He can’t._

“Right,” said Susan, nodding but still looking hopeful. 

*

As the Doctor reluctantly let go of Rose’s hand so she and his granddaughter could play dress-up, he noticed Jackie Tyler’s eyes following Rose’s back. The moment the click of the door was heard, the Doctor expected Jackie to start talking about that _EastEnders_ thing, but instead she turned her eyes inquisitively on the Doctor and blurted out, “What are your intentions towards my daughter?”

“I beg your pardon?” he blinked, confused. 

“You heard me, Mister,” Jackie said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Lord knows I can’t thank you enough for givin’ her the kick in the arse she needed to up and leave that Jimmy wanker, but now that she’s single, what’re you gonna do?”

The Doctor fought the urge to get angry and shout, and tugged on his lapels. “I have nothing but the utmost respect for your daughter, Miss Tyler.”

“Mm hm,” Jackie said, still not looking entirely convinced. “How old are you?” 

He scowled and opened his mouth to tell her it was none of her business, but then he remembered this was the mother of a dear friend who thought he wanted to... do human things with her. “I am... fifty-two,” he lied.

Had Jackie been as clever as Rose, he couldn’t help but think, she would have taken his hesitation and recognised the lie. Instead she nodded, almost like she expected it. “An’ are you aware Rose is only twenty-three?”

He did a double-take and burst out, “ _Twenty-three and that brilliant_? I mean, er...” he added, flushing and finding his napkin suddenly very interesting. 

Jackie let a chuckle slip — she could see why Rose liked this fellow — but schooled her features back into scrutinisation. “Yes, twenty-three. An’ nobody’s ever noticed how brilliant she is, ‘cos she’s an Estates girl.” Before he could say anything in reply she frowned. “Is your name really ‘the Doctor’?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe that,” Jackie sniffed. “Show me your papers.” The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and withdrew the psychic paper, handing it to her across the table and hoping whatever was making Rose partially immune to the paper’s effects didn’t stretch to Jackie Tyler. Apparently it didn’t, because she grinned down at the paper and handed it back to him. “Blimey, it really is. That’s unfortunate, innit?” 

He scowled at her. “Quite.”

Jackie smirked at him over their plates before her look softened, as did his when she said, “You make Rose happy. Y’know, she’s the one who cooked all this. Didn’t let me lift a finger.” He swallowed, a lump in his throat. “An’ she’d never’ve left Jimmy without you. An’ even though you could be her dad, the two of you are obviously smitten with each other—”

“ _What_?”

“—so if you two wanna go round snogging over Charles Dickens, go ahead an’ do it. But if you break her heart, I’ll smack you all the way to India.”

“I’m sure you will,” he grumbled for lack of anything better to say, well aware his cheeks were probably the colour of Skaro.

Thankfully, Rose emerged a split second later, holding out her arms and saying, “Ta-da!” as Susan emerged, blushing and looking good in a pair of denim jeans and a pink flowery jumper. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you look lovely,” Jackie cooed, all previous drilling forgotten. 

Even the Doctor grinned at her. “Marvellous.” 

Rose fetched a bag for the rest of Susan’s clothes, and Jackie gathered up the dishes and bid the Doctor and Susan an early goodbye so she could start the washing. Rose saw Susan and the Doctor to the door, allowing Susan to give her another startlingly tight hug and thank her for the clothes. When Susan stepped out to give the Doctor and Rose some privacy, Rose once again tossed her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, the Doctor responding so vigorously he lifted her off her feet. 

“I’ll see you, yeah?” she murmured into his shoulder. “Tomorrow?”

“In the park?” he asked, and when she nodded he hummed contentedly into her neck. “Wonderful.” 

When Rose pulled away, she could have sworn his head dipped forward a little and Rose’s breath caught in her throat — was he going to kiss her? — but he ducked away quickly and he smiled at her. “Goodnight, Rose Tyler.” 

Rose closed the door behind him and resisted the urge to lean against it and sigh like a corny romance novel. Jackie poked her head out of the kitchen and seemed to guess that’s what she wanted to do. 

“Rose?” 

“Yeah Mum?” Rose called.

“You were right,” Jackie said, and Rose beamed. “He’s a fantastic bloke, that one.”

“Told ya!” she laughed, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the doorjamb.

“Thinks your brilliant,” Jackie added. “An’ he’s got a fit bum. I give you permission to snog him.”

“‘M not gonna, Mum.”

Jackie dropped the pan into the soapy water and raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Why the hell not? You two are obnoxiously in love with each other.”

“Are not,” Rose muttered. “‘Sides, he’s just lonely. Susan told me s’just the two of ‘em. Also, he’s at least thirty years my senior.” 

“He said he was fifty-two,” Jackie said.

Rose giggled. “You managed to get his age out of him? When I asked, all he said was, and I quote—” she tugged at her jumper like the Doctor would and straightened up, “—‘My age is none of your business, young lady.’”

Jackie chuckled. “Sounds like him. But age doesn’t mean nothing, love, not when it comes to what you two have. Heck, your dad was a good eleven years older’n me! Your gran went mad when she found out!”

“Eleven years is a lot less than twenty-nine,” Rose mumbled. “Mum, the Doctor is brilliant. He wouldn’t want a child.”

“Right, an’ that’s why he was holdin’ your hand under the table,” her mum said slyly, and Rose flushed. “Give it some time, sweetheart. If you’re not in love with him yet, you will be.”

Rose couldn’t help but agree.

*

Rose went to bed smiling and woke up bright and early doing the same. Jackie was already up, still fussing over her and insisting she get a proper breakfast before she ‘ran off to make googly eyes at her Doctor.’ Sweeping up _Great Expectations_ and putting it into her bag, Rose gulped down her breakfast and headed out quickly, ever eager to see the Doctor and spend another morning waxing literary devices.

It wasn’t until she was walking past an alley separating a café and an electronics store that she was suddenly hauled by her arm into the shaded alley with force that would surely leave a bruise. She tried to shriek out in pain and alarm but a hand clamped around her mouth before she could, while the other hand dragged herby her arm to around the alley’s corner into the back of the stores. Rose was suddenly shoved down onto the pavement, the skin on her arm scraping away at the impact, and she opened her mouth to shout again only to be interrupted. 

“Hello, _love_ ,” Jimmy spat. “Miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Beta: none**.  
>  Next and final chapter to be posted soon; please review, hope you like!   
> A/N: Mentions of Great Expectations and content in Oliver Twist and David Copperfield are © Charles Dickens; mentions of content in the Count of Monte Cristo is © Alexandre Dumas; and I'll toss on a © to Flyleaf for the mention of the band :) just in case. Please kudos/comment, second and final chapter to be posted soon!  
> PS this is T for suggestive themes for now, but I'm debating whether or not to put in a Doctor/Rose smut scene in the next chapter. Does anyone want/not want that?


	2. Ageless, Timeless - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose recovers in the hospital from Jimmy's assault, the Doctor struggles with the concept of having nearly lost her, and the two of them come to terms about their feelings for each other when Susan invites Rose to her prom.

Ageless, Timeless  
Part Two 

The Doctor practically bounced out of the bookstore as though walking on trampolines, beaming enough to gain him some odd looks. Under his arm were tucked two first-edition copies of _David Copperfield_ and _Oliver Twist_ — his intended gift to Rose, for the previous night (and because she would surely hug him). Oh, he couldn’t wait to see the delighted grin that would most certainly bless her lovely face when he presented them to her! He wanted to get her _Great Expectations_ as a third, since the one she had was in awful condition (had it really been necessary for that Jimmy arse to write swear words all over it?) but he’d run out of psychic bills and the only money he had left were Euros.

Over the chattering of the crowd passing him on the sidewalk, the Doctor heard a small cry of pain with his superior hearing. Frowning, he looked in a complete circle but saw no instance of anybody being hurt. Then he heard it again, and this time he recognised it. It was Rose. Shoving the books into his pockets, the Doctor followed the sounds with an anxious pace until they grew louder, before they stopped altogether. As he approached an electronics store, the sounds of male grunting and what sounded horribly like flesh being hit met the Doctor’s ears. He turned into an alleyway and hurried towards the source.

His hearts nearly jumped out of his throat. Rose was lying on the ground some metres away, unconscious and covered head to toe in blood and bruises. The man the Doctor had once seen Rose with outside of the pub was snarling, lip curled over his teeth as he sank his foot into her ribs.

“Thought you could just up an’ leave an’ there wouldn’t be no consequences, stupid bitch?” Jimmy was saying, and upon kicking her in the ribs again the alley was filled with a sickening crack. 

“ROSE!” shouted the Doctor, hurling himself towards Jimmy.

Jimmy looked up at the oncoming Doctor and sneered despite him. “Oh, look, it’s the old ma—”

Jimmy sentence went unfinished when the Doctor, eyes fiery with fury, brought back his fist and connected it with Jimmy’s jaw. The younger man went flying, hitting his head on the brick wall behind him and slumping down unconscious. The Doctor paid him no heed and dropped to his knees next to Rose, cradling her face with his hand. Her lips was split, there was a large bump swelling on her cheek next to the old one and her right eye was turning violet, and his eyes rimmed with tears at the sight of her.

“Rose, darling, wake up,” he pleaded, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. 

She mumbled something and opened her eyes, bloodied brown gaze meeting his terrified olive one. “M-my Doctor?”

He cried out with relief. “Yes, Rose, it’s me, your Doctor.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and frowned, mumbling deliriously, “Don’t think ‘m gonna make it to the park today, Doctor.” 

He laughed through his tears, swiping them away with his free hand. “That’s all right, love.”

Despite the situation the Doctor flinched at the endearment that had slipped out, but she smiled and hummed contentedly at it. Her smile faded soon as she began to drift back into unconsciousness, despite the Doctor shouting her name for her to stay awake. When she went completely limp he carefully but quickly scooped her up off the ground and jogged like a madman out of the alley with her cradled in his grip, ignoring the cries and gasps of shock coming from the crowd at the sight of Rose.

“ _Somebody, call an ambulance at once_!” he shouted, and a good Samaritan whipped out their mobile and dialled the hospital. 

He was well aware of Jimmy’s groans of pain in the back alley as he stirred back into consciousness, but instead of going back and murdering him, the Doctor concentrated on Rose. Jimmy would have to wait; for now, the Doctor prayed as the ambulance drove off that he would not lose the woman he now knew he had fallen in love with.

*

Rose felt heavy as lead as she drifted out of her sleep. The light above her head was too bright, and she tried to lift an arm to turn it off, but the moment she tried to move her entire body was wracked with pain. As she groaned with confusion and found that even that gesture hurt, the sounds of someone stirring next to her met her ears. 

“Rose?” whispered the Doctor’s voice, sounding strangely echo-ey. 

She tried to gasp in shock — what on Earth was the Doctor doing in her bedroom? — but the gesture made her ribs stab with pain. “Doctor?”

“Yes, Rose, I’m here,” he said quickly, and Rose felt his hand wrap around hers. 

“Hurts,” she whimpered. 

She felt his other hand sweep over her sweaty forehead, brushing away strands of her hair. “Where does it hurt, darling?”

Did he just call her ‘darling’? “Everywhere. Hurts to breathe.” 

Before he could answer, there was a loud shriek from what was definitely her mother, making her head feel like it was splitting in two. “ _My baby’s awake_!”

She felt the Doctor quickly let go of her hand, and in her haze Rose tried to chase it and seize it back, but her arm hurt too much to lift. She tried to wince out when her mother’s hand replaced the Doctor’s and jostled her arm, but a sharp pain shot from her ribs up her oesophagus and her cry got stuck in her throat. “Mum?”

“Yes, sweetheart, I’m here,” choked out Jackie’s panicky-sounding voice. “Mummy’s here.”

Rose blinked, trying to adjust to the bright overhead light. If the Doctor and her mum were in the same place, maybe she’d collapsed during dinner? But no, she remembered saying goodbye, getting up the next morning and heading out to see him in the park. Then she remembered Jimmy, and a jolt of shock like electricity made her bolt upright in, nearly clocking her mother in the forehead before Rose had to double over at the pain she’d just caused herself. Ignoring her mum’s insistence of laying back down, Rose swept her eyes over the room. She was in a cold, white room that smelled of antiseptic; there was a curtain round her bed, blocking out the light coming from the window, Jackie was by her bedside with her hair askew and makeup running, and in the corner were two black, uncomfortable-looking chairs and a pale, stricken Doctor. There was a needle in her arm and a tube leading from it to an IV bag hung on one of those hook things Rose only ever saw on the telly.

“‘M in a hospital,” Rose said aloud, noticing how, when her eyes fell on the Doctor, he suddenly became interested in his shoes. “Jimmy...”

The Doctor cleared his throat suddenly, making Rose jump (and wince), still not looking at her. “I’ll just... er...” He pointed abruptly to the door before practically throwing himself out of it. 

Rose blinked, trying to fight down the urge to call after him, and unwittingly her hand flew up so she could chew on her thumb nervously, which she ceased at once when she noticed how sliced up her hand already was. Her gaze licked over the spectrum colours of violet, indigo, navy and in some cases even crimson painted up her arms, making what little skin she had that wasn’t bruised look pasty. 

“Sweetheart,” Jackie said quickly, noticing Rose was starting to panic. “You’re fine. You’re gonna be all right, the doctors said.”

“Mum,” Rose squeaked out, voice at least an octave higher but still somehow managing to sound firm even though tears were threatening to start. “Tell me everything that happened.”

“J-Jimmy—” Jackie choked, before gulping. “The wanker ambushed you when you were on your way to see that Doctor, yeah? Only you was lucky, ‘cos the Doctor was passin’ by an’ he saved you. Saved your life, he did. An’ hit Jimmy right in the kisser, too!” 

Rose tried to chuckle through her tears, but the action hurt, so she said, “An’ then?”

“Jimmy’s in jail, now,” Jackie said, sniffing and nodding seriously. “Right where he belongs. An’ he won’t get out for ages, him.”

“Then how come everybody’s acting like I’m dead?” Rose said frantically, before slumping with shock when Jackie all but wailed at her words. “Oh my God. I did, didn’t I? I died.” 

Taking a moment to sob into her daughter’s hand, Jackie pulled herself together before crying, “Oh Rose, you were clinically dead for three minutes!” 

Either it was her injuries, or Rose was so shocked she couldn’t see straight, but either way the room began to spin. No wonder the Doctor ran. He must have seen Jimmy hitting her, been terrified of being alone again... maybe even watched her die. 

But he saved her.

Rose lifted her head a little at that, before realising her mum had starting sobbing into the linen sheets again and giving her hand a squeeze. “Mum, look at me.” Jackie obliged, face covered in tears and streaked mascara. Rose did her best to smile, feeling her lip split but paying it no mind. “I’m alive, I’m fine. The Doctor saved me.” 

More tears fell at that. She always knew he would save her. She just didn’t expect it to be like that. “Yeah, he did,” Jackie snuffled. “Brilliant man, him.”

Rose nodded in agreement, giving her usual tongue-touched grin both to get her mum’s spirits up again, and to lick away the blood from her split lip. Hesitating now that her mum wasn’t sobbing like a lunatic, Rose added, “Um, what exactly were my injuries? Besides the obvious, I mean.”

Jackie wiped her face and pursed her lips in concentration. “You’ve got, um, a cracked skull, they said, an’ two fractured ribs that punctured your spleen. That’s what... that’s what made you...” She trailed off. Rose tried to exhale a sigh of relief but found yet again that it didn’t agree with her ribs— all of those things would heal over time. Her relief was short-lived, however, when Jackie added quietly, “They had to operate. Been giving you transfusions for a bit ‘till you could function by yourself. An’ you’ve been asleep for three days.”

“ _Three days_?!” Rose gasped, before yelping in pain. 

Jackie nodded, before managing a small, softening smile. “An’ the Doctor’s never left your side once, I reckon. That Susan girl visited a couple times after school, but he hasn’t budged as far as I know.” 

Rose pressed her mangled hands to her mouth, tears spilling over her cuts and making them sting. She tried repressing her sobs but found it hurt too much, and then tried to let them out but found that hurt as well. So did the knowledge her mother had just gifted her with. She really was all he had besides Susan. And she nearly died. 

And now there was no doubt in her mind that she was in love with him.

A nurse came in, noticing her tears and mistaking them for tears of pain, and asked if she wanted a sedative. Rose at first didn’t wish to be conked out while the Doctor was in the building, but her head started to ache from her injuries and her sobbing (and her realisation) so, closing her mouth, she nodded tearfully without looking up. Letting her mum help her back into a comfortable lying position, Rose watched the nurse inject fluid into her IV bag.

“Mum?” Rose said, feeling herself already start to sink into sleep.

“Yes, love?”

“Tell th’Doctor...” she mumbled, but couldn’t manage the rest of her sentence out.

_Tell the Doctor I love him._

*

Rose woke again with a jolt from a dream involving Jimmy forcing her down on the pavement and pushing bits of wood into her skin, only to smother a yelp of pain when she actually did feel like she was embedded with splinters. The room was dark and Rose waited until her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the moon before taking a look around. There was no sign of her mother anywhere, but in the nearest spindly black chair was a hunched-over Doctor with his chin resting on his clasped hands and a face betraying a torrent of negative emotion. Rose frowned, reached over despite the stiffness of her arm and slipped her hand in between his closed ones, making him jump.

“How come you look so sad?” Rose whispered, and his wide eyes went back to sadness.

“I promised I would not let him hurt you,” he mumbled, staring at a hole in the linen sheets. “I failed, Rose, he...”

Rose shushed him gently, wanting to reach up and run her hands through his hair but refraining. “Doctor, you saved my life.”

“No I didn’t. You were dead.”

“‘M not now, though, am I?”

He looked for a moment like he was going to protest but decided against it, whether or not it was because her words had worked or because he thought he oughtn’t argue with an injured woman. Rose smiled at him, careful not to split open her lip again, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I just have a question,” she said, poking her tongue between her teeth.

His eyes flickered to it and back up, face softening a bit at the gesture. “Oh?”

She bit her lip to try and hide the ever-growing grin. “Did you really punch Jimmy in the face?”

He drew himself up, looking so proud of himself that Rose just had to laugh no matter how much it hurt. “I most certainly did.”

“Wish I’d seen it, bet you clocked him something good,” she grinned. 

“ _Well_ , I did try my very best,” he drawled, giving her a knowing smile and looking a hundred times more cheerful. 

At least, until she sobered when remembering what her mum had said about how long he’d been by her side since she’d first arrived, and without thinking she mumbled, “Doctor, maybe you should go home.” He flinched, looking terrified, and Rose suddenly realised how harsh she’d sounded. “No, I just meant... you don’t need to stay. I’ll be all right. You should get some rest.”

He looked like he was going to protest, but one sharp no-nonsense look from Rose and he sighed, trying not to pout like a petulant child as he reluctantly rose from his seat. “Very well. Good night, Rose.” 

Rose watched the Doctor walk towards the door, biting her lip with the effort not to call him back and beg him to stay. Instead she said, “See you tomorrow?”

The Doctor paused, halfway through the door, before turning his head and beaming at her. “Of course.” 

*

At her request he left the hospital for the first time in nearly five days, his dread growing with each step further away from her he took. It wasn’t just the crippling grief that he’d failed to protect her as he’d promise, it was also the irrational fear that Jimmy would go back and finish her off. As silly as the prospect was, since the Doctor knew full well he was in jail (and since the Doctor and Jackie had agreed that they going to make absolutely certain he wouldn’t get out for at least ten years) he kept envisioning scenarios in which Jimmy would sneak up to her room and kill her in various ways, the most horrifying being choking her to death. He was practically hyperventilating by the time he reached the TARDIS, and the only reason he didn’t sink into a ball on the floor was because of the calming hums his brilliant ship sent over his chaotic mind. Slumping against the console, the Doctor stared at the time rotor with tired eyes. Had anyone told him a month ago that he would be in love with a human woman to the point of crippling pain, he would have told them they were barking. He’d never been in love before, certainly not with a human who had every possible opportunity to die in the stupidest of ways without the ability to regenerate. 

She’d been dead. For three minutes and twenty-four point nine seconds, she’d been just a functionless body, and the things that made her Rose Tyler were gone. He’d stood in front of the glass window, next to a wailing Jackie Tyler, and watched the life drain out of her, heard the flat line of the monitor. Three minutes later the sound of steady beeping had been the most beautiful sound in all the multiverse. 

He shook his head like a dog trying to dry off, refusing to think of just how close he’d come to losing her and forcing himself to look forward to tomorrow. She wanted him to return, when she should hate him for not protecting her. Of course she did; she was too good at heart to hate anyone, even him.

The TARDIS hummed almost disapprovingly for his thoughts, and he scowled at the ceiling, argumentative words already on his tongue; but before he could voice them the TARDIS sent him an image of the two Charles Dickens books he had at the bottom of his pocket. Jumping, the Doctor shoved his hand into his transdimentional pockets and withdrew _Oliver Twist_ and _David Copperfield_ , staring at them. Amidst the panic and near-tears and possibility of loss, he’d forgotten all about the books that may well have saved her life— had he not gone to buy them, he would have been waiting in the park the whole while Jimmy was beating her. 

Tomorrow he would present them to her, as apology/intended gifts. Maybe, if he were lucky, she’d let him read them to her. The TARDIS changed her pitch to something akin to delight and he nodded to the empty room, feeling considerably calmer.

*

Rose woke bright and early despite her restless night, both from excitement over the Doctor’s impending visit and because her ribs were aching. She declined the nurse’s offer of morphine but accepted the plate of food, as she hadn’t eaten in ages. It wasn’t half bad despite the numerous instances where she’d heard hospital food was awful, and Rose even shared her Jell-O with Jackie to prove it. It wasn’t until the Doctor arrived, looking nervous and holding something behind his back, that Jackie winked at her daughter and left them to have their ‘alone time’, as she put it. 

“Hello.” Rose grinned at him.

The Doctor grinned back, all nervousness forgotten as he stepped into the room. “Hello.”

She cocked her head to the side when he didn’t remove his hidden hands. “What d’you have there, then?”

He positively beamed, hurrying over to her bedside, plopping down in the black chair and looking for all the world like a child eager to show off. “I have something for you.”

Rose smiled, tongue in teeth again. “Yeah?”

He nodded, before dramatically whipping his hands back around to his front, holding out two leather-bound books. Rose blinked at them and accepted them, running her hands over the leather and raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Open them, darling,” he chuckled.

Rose blushed and smiled with delight at the endearment — he _had_ said it! — and obediently opened the cover of the first page. Her mouth fell open in shock at the title page, and she snapped her head up to gawk at him. “This is… that’s…” She swallowed down tears and, dropping the books into her lap, tossed her arms round his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. 

He reciprocated just as desperately as though starved for her touch, holding her close despite the awkward angle, and she could have sworn he was pressing his lips to her temple. “I figured you needed something other than that _severely_ mistreated copy of _Great Expectations_.”

She laughed tearfully into his shoulder. “Yeah, that thing’s nearly in pieces.” She drew back, barely, and kissed his cheek, shocking him. “Thank you, Doctor.”

He flushed at the gesture, repressing the urge to lift a hand and touch the burning spot where she’d kissed. “You’re very welcome.” 

She leaned back and beamed at her books, before handing _David Copperfield_ to him. “Read to me?”

He chuckled. A woman after his own hearts. “Of course, darling.”

It was the fourth time he’d called her ‘darling’, a dangerous term of affection, but Rose seemed to welcome it so he didn’t think much of it save for the delighted thrill of her permission. Obediently he opened the book, turned to the first page and cleared his throat. “Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show…”

*

Every day for the next three weeks, the Doctor arrived early in the morning where she would be propped up in bed, already waiting for him (eagerly, if the way she snapped her head up and beamed when he entered the room was any indication). Her copy of _Oliver Twist_ would be locked away in a cabinet for safekeeping, and _David Copperfield_ would be set next to her bedside, all set and ready for him to pick up and read. They’d chat the day away, occasionally sharing Rose’s lunch which the Doctor liked to insult, and then when night fell Rose would snuggle into her pillow and fall asleep to his voice reading aloud the adventures of David Copperfield.

The subject of proximity began on the third day, in the middle of narrating the tenth chapter, when Rose suddenly tugged on his sleeve. He stopped reading aloud and looked down at her with confusion. “What is it?”

“C’mere,” she insisted, scooting over and patting the empty space next to her.

He swallowed and opened his mouth to utter a million excuses why that would not be prudent, but temptation to be near her overwhelmed any relatively good excuse (not that there were any) and, rising from the chair, he sat next to her on the bed. As she slipped her arm round his and snuggled into it, he tried not to hum with delight and continued to read. 

It took a day and a half for him to relax in his new allowed position, and another two hours for him to get used to reading whilst Rose’s scent was bombarding his nose. 

A week of this behaviour led to the tentative arm wrapping round her shoulders instead of it being hugged to her body. Rose seemed to agree with this all the way, sighing softly and resting her head on his chest. When she sighed contentedly at Agnes Wickfield’s ‘unrequited’ love to David Copperfield, he spent the rest of the night narrating with a goofy grin on his face. 

During the days of the next week, Rose slowly inched her way closer and closer to him until she was all but plastered to his side, and with that it was a miracle he was even able to move his mouth let alone read aloud. He found himself pausing for a brief moment whenever she wriggled unconsciously against his side, trying not to groan before chiding himself in his mind. Rose Tyler was an aphrodisiac or something, making him feel like some kind of randy human teenager instead of a superior Time Lord who didn’t engage in silly, base things like _intercourse_. Although… if she wanted to…

Eventually they wouldn’t just cuddle during nights when he read to her— in fact, by her request and to his delight, the first thing she did one day the moment he walked in the door was pat the deliberately empty space next to her. Instead of picking up _David Copperfield_ early, the couple chatted happily in each other’s embrace before the Doctor remarked aloud that her bruises were fading.

“They took a while to heal,” the Doctor frowned, trailing a finger over her still slightly bruised arm and feeling stupidly pleased with himself when the gesture made her break out in gooseflesh. “But they’re starting to yellow now.”

“Good. Didn’t much fancy lookin’ like an eggplant,” Rose said, beaming up at him.

“Indeed, you had enough bruises to shame an Indigonian,” the Doctor said indignantly, before looking alarmed at his own words.

“And that is what, exactly?” Rose giggled, patting him fondly on the knee. 

He cleared his throat, wondering whether or not he should lie before taking one look at her face and deciding otherwise. “Erm, the Indigonians are aliens, twice the size of humans. They have violet-coloured skin with lavender patterns that are unique to one person, and are determined by the genetic codes of the parents, rather like human’s eye, hair and skin colours.” Rose nodded seriously, looking enraptured by his lecture, and so he continued. “The Indigonians have lidless eyes with white, almost invisible pupils, so they haven’t very good eyesight.”

“Is their planet called Indigo?” Rose asked, tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth.

The Doctor ignored the urge to swoop down and suck that tongue into his mouth, bopping her on the nose with her finger instead. “Close. It is called Indigon, actually.”

Rose shook her head with amazement, grinning. “Blimey, the imagination on you. Could become the next Charles Dickens, I reckon, if you keep that up.”

Even though he knew perfectly well he didn’t make any of it up, he straightened up and looked smug. “Do you think so?”

“Absolutely.”

A question, not previously thought of but suddenly of immeasurable importance, fell from his mouth. “Do you believe in aliens?”

Rose bit her lip contemplatively. “Call me barmy, but yeah, I do.”

He was glad she was looking down now, because he was beaming like a nutter. “Really?” 

“Yeah. Universe as enormous as ours, we can’t possibly be the only sentient life forms out there.” She grinned up at him. “For all we know, there’s a bunch o’ advanced aliens lookin’ at us now, and we look incredibly stupid in comparison to them.” 

The urge to hug her with excitement was suppressed but still present nonetheless, as was the beam that could light up Gallifrey. Rassilon, she was so _effing_ clever! “That’s a brilliant hypothesis.”

“You reckon?” Rose laughed. 

_Speaking as a member of that ‘bunch o’ advanced aliens’_ — “Of course.”

That was the very night the Doctor fell asleep snuggling with her.

*

Rose woke halfway through the night feeling warm and heavy. Something was pressing against her bottom, and she instinctively wiggled against it before a soft, drawn-out moan breezing against her neck made her freeze. She blinked away the grit of sleep and concentrated hard. Someone was definitely in the bed with her; one leg was twisted between hers, a face was pressed against the back of her neck, an arm was around her waist and a hand was curled around the weight of her breast. One glance down at the arm, which was covered in a familiar black sleeve, told her that the Doctor was spooning her.

_Holy fuck_. She resisted the urge to go rigid, just in case it woke him and gave him the wrong impression. A kind of fluttery thrill bloomed in her chest — _the Doctor was spooning her_ — before it made way for care. Now that she thought about it, the circles underneath his eyes had been getting darker with each passing day ever since she’d first woken in the hospital. He must have been exhausted. Sighing as quietly as possible, Rose settled into his embrace and snuggled into it, savouring it since it’d never come again. For a moment she could swear she heard a double heartbeat against her back.

Then she remembered the hard thing pressing into her arse, and this time she really did go rigid. Gaping wide-eyed at the blue curtain as though it was going to gape back and say, “I know, right?” Rose experimentally wiggled her bum again, and another gentle groan flitted from his lips. A stab of arousal shot down between her thighs, and she committed this moment to memory. Once she got out of the hospital, this would probably fuel a couple of fantasies and then some. 

She doubted herself for a quarter of a second — the wise, _conscious_ Doctor would be appalled at this situation — and tried to slowly wriggle out of his grip, but he moaned long and low and clutched her so desperately to him it made tears well up in her eyes. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t be appalled. Just mildly embarrassed. 

To use the Doctor’s expression: _Rassilon_ , she loved him.

Rose managed to get him to relax his grip with soothing caresses, on what amount of his arm she could reach, and gentle murmurs. Eventually he mumbled something before his grip went lax, his body weight and entanglement now the only thing keeping her to him. Allowing herself the luxury of pressing a kiss to his hand, Rose tangled her fingers with his and went back to sleep.

*

Waking up nearly on top of Rose Tyler with his leg tossed over her hips and an erection pressing into her bum was definitely something the Doctor never expected to find himself doing.  
For the past three and a half weeks, he’d been too scared to go to sleep, as the one time he did he dreamed of Rose broken, bloody and dead in the TARDIS console room, but the comfortable snuggling next to a warm, sleeping and not dead Rose prompted him to drift off into slumber with her. Apparently in his sleep he’d decided he wasn’t close enough.

When he did wake and found himself hard and clutching her like the world was ending, the Doctor sat there like a statue for a full twenty minutes trying to properly process what the sodden hell had happened. Holy Rassilon, he wanted her. Well, that was a no-brainer, since she was quite frankly the only thing he wanted in the whole universe next to Susan and his TARDIS, but he actually _wanted_ her. The Doctor would have been grateful for his superior Time Lord biology when he was able to manipulate his system into getting rid of his _problem_ , but since his supposed ‘superior Time Lord biology’ hadn’t helped him from preventing it in the first place, he wasn’t. 

He forced himself to untangle his body from her, as much as he wanted to stay with her until she woke, and crept out of the room, feeling like every human that he passed in the building was glaring down at him and telling him he ought to be ashamed. Not because he’d had a _reaction_ , but because who the hell was he kidding? Rose Tyler would never want an old-looking thing like him. 

And he should know that.

*

When the Doctor returned at the usual time, Rose pretended like nothing had ever happened. He was evidently trying to do the same, since he sidled into the bed next to her in his custom spot, although she noticed him hesitating before doing so. She tried to show him there were no hard (no pun intended) feelings by snuggling up to him straight away. 

It was in the afternoon after she and the Doctor had shared Rose’s lunch again (and he’d thoroughly insulted the ‘pitiful excuse of palatable nourishment’ called Jell-O) that the nurse came in and announced that she was fit to leave the hospital. The Doctor all-but beamed at her at the news, although Rose was slightly disappointed since that would mean their snuggling/ _David Copperfield_ -filled days would be over. So, upon checking out hand-in-hand with the Doctor, Rose stepped out of the hospital into fresh afternoon London air. 

The Doctor suggested they surprise Jackie with this development and maybe Susan as well, as she hadn’t had time to visit since her final exams were coming up. Rose hummed with agreement; only-half listening since she was hoping that hand-holding would become a habit for them. 

Jackie all but screamed when she answered the door and saw them standing there (still holding hands, despite the Doctor’s clearly flushed face) and refrained from scooping her daughter into the bear-hug she clearly wanted to give just in case Rose was still in pain. After a long-winded rant to Bev on the phone Jackie ended up inviting the Doctor in, making them both dinner as Rose led the Doctor into the living room and showed him _EastEnders_ and he finally understood what had been so funny at dinner last month. 

Jackie hadn’t been visiting her daughter in the hospital as often as she wanted to, and it was because of the Doctor that Rose was presently snuggling with on the chesterfield, laughing at _EastEnders_ with. As terrified as a mother could be when her daughter was flat lining on an operating table before her eyes, whilst she had sobbed her heart out and prayed to God not to take her little girl, the Doctor had stood white-faced like a statue. It’d scared Jackie when she saw him actually shut down like that, all hope leaving his eyes, making him look like the saddest of ghosts.

And then there had been no doubt in Jackie’s mind just how much the Doctor was in love with her Rose. It went beyond his thinking she was clever, or his apparent ‘loneliness’. That had been Jackie’s precise reaction when she’d seen Pete’s body after his accident, like the ground beneath her had disappeared and she was falling without anyone to catch her. 

As she cut up vegetables and peered over at the bantering couple situated comfortably on the couch, Jackie smiled gently at them and hoped that the Doctor would hurry up and tell Rose how he felt, and vice versa. If there was one thing Jackie had learned, it was that people you loved could be snatched away as easily as drawing in breath, and that every moment of one’s life counted.

*

When the Doctor had dinner with them, left rather grudgingly to make sure Susan had someone to come home to and promised to return tomorrow with Susan, Rose took a long shower, both because she hadn’t been able to in ages and to rid herself of the arousal from the previous night’s escapades. She came out satisfied and deliciously clean, only to find her best mate since primary school Mickey Smith situated on the couch next to Jackie grudgingly watching an _EastEnders_ rerun. He all but jumped when she entered the room, and with a shout of delight he tossed his arms around Rose’s frame.

“Hi, babe,” he whispered into her ear.

“Hi Micks,” Rose hummed. “Oh, I missed you.” 

“Me too, babe.”

They left the living room so Jackie could watch telly and plopped down on Rose’s bed. “How’ve you been, Micks?” 

Mickey shrugged, arms crossed behind his head as he leaned back against Rose’s pillows. “Been all right. Managed to scrape up enough quid to go to Spain.” 

Rose bit her lip. She knew he’d gone on vacation last month, but she hadn’t known he’d gone to Spain— the very place Mickey’s father, Jackson Smith, had supposedly gone to before never returning again. “How’d it go?” 

Mickey shrugged, eyes dark. “Found my dad.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded and said, “Shacked up with a rich young Spanish chick. Had another kid with her.” 

Rose scooted over to him and gave him an awkward hug. “‘M sorry, Mickey.”

“Don’t be,” Mickey snorted. “Didn’t recognise me at first, ‘till I clocked him something good from me an’ Mum. Told my half-brother who I was. Don’t think Dad’s gonna have a perfect home life anymore now that ‘Alex Smith’ knows what kind of bloke his dad is.” Shaking his head, Mickey sat up and scanned over Rose. “‘Nough about me. Tell me what went on.”

Rose shrugged, playing with her earring. “S’a long story.”

“‘M here now, babe, even though I wasn’t when you was in the hospital.” He slung an arm round Rose’s shoulder. “Start at the beginning, then.” 

Breathing in deeply, Rose started into a long monologue about meeting the Doctor after the gig at the pub, about him showing up at Henrik’s and their getting into yet another argument (they both shared a chuckle over the Doctor’s nosiness), his granddaughter Susan, Jimmy hitting her again, the time she and the Doctor bonded over Charles Dickens, and his reaction to the bruise and Rose’s decision to leave Jimmy. 

“So, you left Jimmy ‘cos of a strange old man flipping out over your bruise?” Mickey asked confusedly.

Rose shot him a pointed look. “I left Jimmy ‘cos he’s a wanker. The Doctor just helped me see that.”

“An’ that’s another odd thing about him. His name’s really ‘the Doctor’?” 

“Yep.”

Mickey snorted again. “‘ _Kay_ then. So then what?”

Rose flushed to her toes and tried to hide it with her hands. “Um, I made the Doctor dinner.”

Mickey started to laugh so hard he nearly rolled off the bed and tears started down his cheeks. Rose waited him out for a full five minutes, looking at her nails until he wiped his eyes and quietened. “Oh, babe, that’s _hilarious_.”

“S’not hilarious, an’ it wasn’t my idea!” Rose insisted. “Mum wanted to thank him for gettin’ me to leave Jimmy, so I made dinner for him. _And_ Susan,” she added. “So there. Then we made plans to meet in the park again, only when I was on my way Jimmy ambushed me.” She lowered her voice for her mother’s sake. 

“Heard he beat you somethin’ awful,” Mickey said quietly, tracing her remaining yellowing bruises. 

Rose nodded, playing with a hole in her jeans. “The Doctor saved me. Punched Jimmy right in the face, he did.” 

“Wish I’d seen that!” Mickey chuckled, before sobering. “Jackie said you were...”

“Dead for three minutes, apparently,” Rose nodded, trying to act nonchalant about it. “Mum said I had, er, a cracked skull, two fractured ribs an’ a punctured spleen.”

They sat in silence, Mickey seeming to process this information and Rose fiddling with her earring again. Then, even quieter than before, he asked, “D’you love that Doctor bloke, then?” Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Rose ducked her head and nodded. “An’ he’s how old again?”

“Fifty-two.”

“Blimey, Rose, that’s one hell of an age gap.” 

Rose glared at him. “Mum said the same thing ‘till she actually met him. Then she approved.”

“Before or after he saved your life?”

“Before.”

Mickey whistled. “He must be somethin’ fantastic.”

Rose tried not to smile like an idiot. “He is, Micks.” She sat up straighter and pointed to her shelf with a big smile, where her two beautiful copies of _Oliver Twist_ and _David Copperfield_ (and her haggard old, doodled-on _Great Expectations_ ) were situated. “He got me those two.”

Mickey’s jaw dropped to the ground, and he hurled himself off of the bed and reached towards the book, hastily drawing back his hand as though if he touched them they would turn to dust. “Babe, those are first editions.”

“I’ve heard of that before, but I never knew what it meant,” Rose said, frowning with confusion.

“And they’re in such bloody fantastic condition...” Mickey muttered, ignoring her. “Rose, these have got to be worth twenty thousand quid, separately.”

“The Doctor wouldn’t spend that much on me,” Rose chuckled, waving it off. 

“Clearly, he did,” Mickey insisted. “Blimey, these are worth a fortune. What does he do for a living?”

Rose shrugged. “Dunno, didn’t ask, but I’m assuming he’s a _doctor_ ,” she said, giving Mickey a look. “You don’t actually think that a bloke I met nearly two months ago — who, by the way, hated me at first — suddenly spent forty thousand quid on priceless books for me?”

“Take it to a store, and find out,” Mickey said. “Or ask him. Either way, those are insanely expensive, babe.”

“Or _you_ could ask him and see that he didn’t,” Rose said disbelievingly, before her face lit up. “Ooh, we should all get chips! You, me, Susan and him. They’re comin’ over tomorrow for lunch; Susan’s in her exams and doesn’t have another one till the end of this week.”

Mickey shrugged. “I s’pose... what’s the worst that could happen?”

*

Mickey left ten minutes later and Rose went to bed, imagining the four of them at the chippy in situations ranging from Mickey and the Doctor getting along like best friends to Mickey and the Doctor arguing the finer points of _A Child’s History of England_. Although that last one was the most unlikely, since Mickey hated to read anything other than football scores and alien conspiracy theories on the Internet. Sufficed to say, she wasn’t entirely shocked when she ended up falling asleep and dreaming of her two best mates running around a bookshop like children in a candy shop. 

Rose snuggled down in front of the telly with her copy of _Oliver Twist_ — she didn’t touch _David Copperfield_ , as that was the Doctor’s to read to her. She couldn’t help but wonder if they really were extremely expensive and spent the whole of her reading time trying not to bend the cover and handling the pages as though they were unimaginably fragile. Her mum was on the phone with Bev for most of the morning, talking extremely loudly about her daughter’s new ‘beau’ who was ‘an older genius who at the same time was too daft to tell her how he felt’, which Rose overheard and ended up retreating to her room lest her face catch fire. 

Mickey arrived first, smirking at her book choice. They waited barely twenty minutes for the Doctor to arrive before Jackie stuck her head into Rose’s bedroom and announced that they were here. Mickey dissolved into laughter when Rose hurled herself out of the room and was immediately swept up into tight hugs by the Doctor and Susan (the Doctor even spun her). Everything was fine until Mickey emerged from her bedroom, hand outstretched. The Doctor seemed to stare at him like he was something appalling, but Rose didn’t notice because of Susan’s prolonged hug. 

“Susan, Doctor, this is my mate Mickey Smith,” Rose introduced, as the Doctor grudgingly shook hands with Mickey and ripped his hand away as though Mickey were a contagious germ. “I thought we could all go out for chips.”

“Sounds lovely,” Susan said, smiling at Rose before noticing the muscle jumping in her grandfather’s jaw. “Grandfather?”

“Yes, yes, lovely indeed,” he muttered, hastily grabbing Rose’s hand to her delight and Mickey’s confusion. “Off we go, then, darling.”

The walk there would have been awkward had Rose noticed the tension between her two best mates. They were situated on either side of her, Rose swinging the Doctor’s hand as she walked and Mickey continuing to bump his hip into hers. Mickey was torn between smirking knowingly and looking a bit put out while the Doctor was scowling at the pavement and pretending to listen to Rose’s chatter. 

When they reached the chippy, the Doctor’s mood was elevated ever so slightly when he remarked loudly how unbelievably unhealthy deep-fried potatoes were (“Honestly, why choose one of the healthiest vegetables on the planet if all you’re going to do is soak it in carbohydrates?”) and Rose giggled and patted him on the chest. It didn’t last long, however, since Mickey seemed to have an agenda and started being a lot more handsy than normal with her, and the two men had a silent war over who could touch Rose the most without pushing the boundaries. Rose did hold the Doctor’s hand under the table and patted him fondly on the chest or the knee with her free hand whenever he said something rude or silly (which seemed to be quite often), but Mickey managed to coax her to put her leg up in his lap and that seemed to seriously irk the older man.

Eventually the Doctor had had enough of mute battles because, upon popping a chip into his mouth, he said airily, “What is it you do for a living, Rickey?”

“S’Mickey,” Mickey muttered, while Rose gave the Doctor another fond pat on the thigh and shared a smirk with Susan. “‘M a mechanic.”

“He just came back from Spain,” said Rose happily, licking vinegar off her fingers. “Wish I could go to Spain.”

“How ‘bout you, Doctor...?” Mickey said inquisitively, eyes narrowing.

“Just the Doctor,” he sniffed, tugging at his lapels and frowning when Rose giggled at the action. “I would have thought my name might have triggered something.”

“You’re actually a doctor? Of what?”

“Of many areas. I’m quite clever, you know.” 

Rose rolled her eyes and smirked, upon rising from her seat the Doctor’s hand instinctively tightened on hers, but she said, “Just poppin’ off to the loo.”

“I’ll join you,” Susan said, getting up as well while tossing her empty chip box into the bin.

Rose gave the two of them a stern look when they grimaced at the prospect of being left alone with each other. “An’ behave, you two. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

At least they both had the decency to look sheepish when Rose turned and walked off with Susan. Mickey waited until the two of them were out of sight before rounding on the Doctor. “All right, mate, here’s the sitch. Clearly Rose loves you—”

“I hardly think that’s any of your business, Rickey,” interrupted the Doctor smoothly, though he turned faintly pink. 

“Mickey.”

“Rickey.”

“It’s _Mickey_ ,” he ground out. “Dunno what the hell she sees in you, ya rude old sod—”

“ _OI_!”

“— but she’s completely over the moon for you,” he continued, glaring at the Doctor. “An’ you don’t seem to be anythin’ like Jimmy. Just, if you break her heart, I’ll kick your arse.”

“Noted,” snorted the Doctor, who knew perfectly well this human couldn’t possibly ‘kick his arse’. 

Mickey glared, before adding, “Rose doesn’t know those books you bought her are first editions.”

The Doctor’s I’m-superior-to-you expression faded into withdrawn quietness. “I thought not.”

“Blimey, mate, you must love her somethin’ awful,” Mickey sighed. “Spendin’ all that on books for her.” He gave the Doctor a stern eye. “S’obvious that you love her too. You called her _darling_. Saw your face when I came out of her room. You thought we were shaggin’, didn’t ya?” The Doctor turned red and mumbled something incoherent, wringing his hands under the table. “Anyway, me an’ Rose’ve been mates since we were in nappies. Had a crush on her about six years ago, but she swanned off with Jimmy an’ I met my girlfriend Martha. Haven’t told Rose yet.” 

The Doctor nearly laughed at his own silliness. He’d been silently fighting this stupid human for Rose’s attention when he’d been secretly engaged the whole time! 

Soon after Rose emerged with Susan, beaming when she saw the Doctor and Mickey smiling at each other instead of sneaking glares whenever they thought she wasn’t looking. They spent another hour in the chippy, everyone getting along smoothly now. Rose screamed and hurled her arms around Mickey’s neck when he told her of his girlfriend and possibly soon-to-be fiancée, Martha Jones— older than Rose by only two months; a gorgeous and an aspiring med student who he met in the airport while in Spain. They’d bonded over being the only two Londoners in the whole country and ended up spending most of the trip together. Then the Doctor and Mickey ended up talking mechanical, and Rose and Susan took that time to laugh at them and chat about school and other ‘girl things’. 

“Oh, and Grandfather gave me the dress,” Susan said excitedly, and Rose beamed. “He told me you picked it out. It was lovely!”

“That’s great,” Rose said happily.

Susan bit her lip for a moment before adding, “Er, Grandfather and I were wondering... prom is in less than a fortnight... and, well, they need chaperones there.”

Rose was extremely aware that the Doctor had stopped speaking and was listening, but she couldn’t bring herself to so much as pick her jaw up off the table, let alone acknowledge him. “Are you askin’ me to go to your prom?” 

Susan nodded, looking hopeful. “Grandfather said you’d never had one of your own, and he’ll be all by himself otherwise...”

Rose simply blinked, mouth agape as she regarded the little pixie. Never in all of her days had she ever met anyone as sweet, thoughtful and downright good as the Doctor and his Susan. Only once had she ever mentioned not having a prom, and that was when she thought the Doctor was a rude old curmudgeon with a stick up his arse. And here they were, best friends and secretly in love (well, she was anyway) two months later, having gone through so much, and now Susan was inviting her to prom as a ‘chaperone’ so she could experience it. 

Drawing in a deep, shaky breath and trying not to burst into tears, Rose beamed at Susan. “I’d love to, Susan.”

Directly next to her, the Doctor’s rigid posture melted into butter, and he forced himself to respond to Mickey’s question about mechanical engineering while at the same time trying not to grin like a silly buffoon. Not only would he be able to give Rose a gift that couldn’t be bought with psychic bills (well, unless you counted the four quid he already paid for her ticket) but he’d be able to dance with her, hold her close. He had never been one for dancing, certainly not at silly human parties, but it was Rose, and so it was something to look forward to.

And he desperately wanted to see her in a dress. That too.

*

A week and a half later, Susan received the surprise of her life when she knocked on the door, her prom dress and what little makeup brands she owned in a bag, and was met by an onslaught of terrified Rose Tyler.

“ _SUSAN_!” Rose all but screeched, grabbing the little brunette by the wrist and dragging her into the flat.

Susan started, staring at her dishevelled-looking friend, whose hair was wet from the shower. “Rose, what’s the matter?” 

“I thought I had a dress, but I don’t,” Rose basically wailed, pointing to a rumpled-looking pink thing laid out on the couch. “I haven’t worn a dress in, what, four years?”

“Five,” Jackie shouted from the kitchen.

“Yes, thank you, Mum,” said Rose sarcastically, before returning her attention to the dress. “S’got mothballs all over it.”

Susan collapsed into giggles, unable to help it even when Rose gave her a wolfish glare. “Oh Rose, there’s no need to panic,” she finally managed, wiping her eyes and handing the bag filled with her things into Rose’s hand. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a half hour.”

“Where are you going?” Rose called, frowning at the retreating Susan.

“To the TAR— I mean, to get you a dress,” Susan replied, shutting the door behind her. 

Rose stuffed Susan’s things into her bedroom next to a giant heap of makeup articles (most of which were her mother’s, but she owned a hefty sum of it too) and threw her destroyed pink dress in the trash. Susan reappeared in less than her intended time, another bag swinging on her arm. Rose sincerely hoped Susan hadn’t run off to a shop to buy a dress for her, not on the eve of her prom.

“Try this on, then,” Susan said, handing her the bag. 

Rose gasped as she looked inside at the gown. “Susan, that’s... where did you get this?”

“Had it at my place,” she said vaguely. “There are shoes in there as well, and the corsage Grandfather picked out for you.”

If the Doctor chose it, she would wear it with pride, but for now she wouldn’t look at it, wanting it to be a surprise. So, with one last enormous hug to her brunette friend, the two girls headed into Rose’s room to do their hair and makeup. Susan ended up relying heavily on Rose for most of her makeup, since she rarely ever used it. Rose noticed she avoided even touching the face powder, not that it mattered what with Susan’s perfect, fair complexion. Maybe she was allergic— her mate Shareen’s cousin was allergic to all types of foundation. 

Rose may have secretly had a little too much fun helping Susan with her makeup. Maybe the prospect of doing the whole prom routine — doing a girlfriend’s makeup for her, getting dressed up and going out with a bloke she fancied — was getting to her, but Rose couldn’t help but smile fondly at her newfound, younger friend as she carefully traced her eyelid with a make up pen. After several layers of mascara, eyeliner, foundation and gloss for Rose and only a dab of the former two and lippy for Susan, Jackie bustled in when they were done the makeup stage so she could, very expertly, coax Rose’s hair into a high French chignon and Susan’s into short but lovely curls. Now that the cat was out of the bag, Rose entertained them all by telling Susan about what had transpired in Henrik’s the day her grandfather had blundered in. Eventually it was time to turn their backs on each other and shimmy into their dresses.

Then in a flurry of, “Okay, one... two... three... turn!” Susan and Rose spun on their heels and took in the sight of each other. Rose completely squealed at the sight of Susan, beautiful in the fern green knee-high gown her grandfather and Rose had once bonded over (until they fought, again). As Rose had suspected, Susan’s presently hunter green eyes were emphasised almost magically. 

“Oh, Susan, you’re so lovely,” Rose sighed, and Susan blushed to her neck. 

“Thank you, Rose,” the teenager said shyly, before changing her tone to something knowing. “I can’t wait for Grandfather to see you.”

“Wh—?” Rose started to ask before Jackie barged in on them and screamed so loudly to the point where their neighbour up stairs stomped angry on the floor to get her to shut it. 

“ _Oh, look at you two, you’re gorgeous_!” the Prentice woman wailed, fussing over them for a full ten minutes before adding, “Ooh, have you got corsages? An’ shoes? Put ‘em on, lemme see!” 

Susan donned a pair of jewelled olive flats before handing Rose a pair of strappy gold heels. Jackie whistled about them being drop-dead sexy before turning her squeals onto Susan’s corsage, which consisted of a jewelled lime daisy and a tiny white bow. When it came time for Rose to don the Doctor’s chosen corsage, she breathed in deep, closed her eyes and stuck her hand into the bag.

Tears welled up in her eyes at the sight of it. It was gorgeous; two large, real golden roses, touched off by a yellow silk ribbon and a myriad of little shiny, gold leaves. 

“Oh, Rose, it’s lovely,” Jackie sighed, sliding it onto Rose’s wrist for her when all she could do was stare at it. “You’re gonna knock him dead.” 

After about a hundred pictures taken by Jackie, they called a taxi, since there was _no way_ they were going on the dirty old Tube dressed like that (“Not only will you get yourself all filthy, but there’ll be wankers eye-shaggin’ you!” Jackie said shrilly) and the cab driver actually whistled at them when they went in. A bubbling cauldron of nervousness boiled in Rose’s stomach the closer they got to Coal Hill School, but she tried to force it down by insisting Susan introduce her to her bloke until Susan went as red as the stop lights. 

*

The Doctor waited nervously in Coal Hill School’s gymnasium, dressed in an outfit similar to his everyday one, but a little dressier. He couldn’t decide where to stick his hands, whether it was in his pockets or fiddling with his bowtie. Those of Susan’s fellow students that had arrived were shooting him glances and whispering behind their hands, only to cower when he glared at them. Rude little apes. None of them would ever be half as clever as his Rose. And then he grew nervous again, thinking of Rose. Every time the door opened, his eyes snapped to it only to have his hearts momentarily sink into his stomach when somebody other than Rose walked in and was greeted by Susan’s teachers, Mr. Chesserman (or something like that) and Ms. Wright. 

Then his Susan walked in, beautiful in the dress he and Rose had gotten, shaking her teachers’ hands and looking thrilled when a handsome student with stick-uppy hair greeted her before whisking her onto the dance floor. He took a moment to grin with grandfatherly pride — his Susan was clearly as smitten with this human as he was with Rose — when his smile dropped off his face and his jaw hit the floor. She was in the doorway staring starry-eyed at everything. Rose, that is. His vast and frankly magnificent brain short-circuited at the sight of her. She was dressed in a beautiful, ruffle-ended gown with a tantalising V-neck and a shiny ribbon wrapped around her waist. It was gold, looking to the Doctor like the essence of the Time Vortex had latched itself onto this one gorgeous human and wrapped around her body like the most precious of silks. Round her wrist was the corsage he’d spent hours making. He’d gone to Luneflora to have it made, but he’d gone specially to Mount Perdition to pick the golden hybrid of her namesake found only on Gallifrey. She was donning a piece of his home planet on her wrist and she had no idea. 

_Arkytior_.

He snapped himself out of his goggling reverie when Rose’s lovely hand was seized by Mr. What’s-his-name and shaken vigorously; jealousy reminiscent to what he’d felt when he’d first met Mickey made him swell up and stomp over to them, intent on dragging Rose away. He stopped short before he made a fool of himself when he heard their conversation.

“... thankful that you came, as we’re severely short-staffed,” Barbara was saying with a kind smile once Ian was finished shaking her hand.

“Susan speaks very highly of you,” Ian said, beaming at her.

Rose grinned happily and was about to respond when she felt an arm wrap possessively around her waist, and she turned only to find the Doctor glaring at Ian. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Chatterton.”

“Chesterton, sir,” Ian said, not looking at all disgruntled by the Doctor’s rudeness.

“Chasterman,” the Doctor sniffed, leading a giggling Rose away from the confused science teacher.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Rose said, patting him affectionately on the arm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling,” he said with a secret smile, before his endearment made him remember with a jolt that they were at prom and she was standing next to him looking like the flower of the universe. Blushing hard and slipping his hands into hers, he turned to her and said, shakily but earnestly, “Rose... you look _magnificent_.” She blushed all the way down to the swell of her breasts (not that he looked or anything, being a Time Lord) and mumbled her thanks. With that, his confidence boosted, and with a superior smile he asked, “Darling Rose, would you dance with me?”

“I’d love to,” Rose said, tongue in teeth as he all but beamed and swept her into his hold. “Are these roses real?” she added, when his eyes landed on the corsage and glowed with delight. 

“Yes, darling.”

“They’re not, like, genetically engineered or something?”

He pulled his hand away briefly to bop her on the nose fondly. “You’ve been watching too much of that _Star Trek_ drivel.” 

“Have not,” she huffed, trying to forsake her grin for affront and failing. “Where did they grow, then?”

“Gallifrey,” he said swiftly without thinking, before freezing up as much as he could while dancing. 

“Is that in Ireland?” 

“Er, yes,” he mumbled.

She took his hesitation at the start of his sentence as an indication of a lie — maybe Rose was a little too clever — but didn’t press the matter, much to his relief. They spent the next hour and a half twirling like pros, weaving in and out of the throng of fumbling teenagers, talking and laughing softly to each other. Unconsciously they continued to drift closer and closer to each other, previous awkwardness gone. 

That is, until, somebody knocked into Rose’s back and made her stumble, forcing the Doctor to lean forward to catch her elbow and causing Rose’s head to snap up. They stared at each other, noses touching, and when his eyes flickered down to her mouth, she took that as initiative and kissed him. He responded at once, revelling in the feeling of her lips on his, uncommonly warm, soft and pliable. Hands moved— Rose’s slipping into his hair and his around her back and waist, pulling her flush against him. He made a hungry noise in the back of his throat and never mind the fact that they were in public at a prom for teenagers— the sound of the Doctor wanting her shot straight down to her abdomen. 

Snickers and murmuring started up around them and, not wanting them to be a show for adolescents, the Doctor pulled back barely a millimetre and mumbled against her mouth, “Time to leave, I think.” 

Rose nodded, not entirely sure what she’d just agreed to since her head was fuzzy, but that was clarified when the Doctor led her through the throng and out into the night air. They walked for a few minutes in who the hell knows what direction— Rose didn’t care, as long as he kept pinning her to his side and stealing snogs against buildings. Finally she broke away, giggling when they received a couple of affronted looks from passers-by.

“Are we going in any particular direction?” she asked with mirth.

He nodded, trying to look solemn and beam at the same time and somehow pulling it off. “It’s time I was completely honest with you, darling Rose Tyler.”

The Doctor tugged her further down the sidewalk even though Rose was frowning. “Where are we going?”

“Home,” he said simply.

To her immense surprise, he turned the corner and tugged her into a dark alley. Her frown deepened and she looked around, wondering whether he lived in a back flat or something. Then she spotted it at the very end of the path.

He was leading her straight towards that odd blue box Rose had seen him come out of in the park once upon a time. Now it was situated in the alleyway less than a block from the school, shadowed between buildings. She thought he was joking and raised an eyebrow at him, but he simply gave her a knowing smile, pulled out an ordinary-looking key from his pockets and stuck it into the lock. She heard the faint humming again and frowned, reaching over and pressing a hand to the blue wood to see if it was vibrating, which it wasn’t.

“You... live in this box?” she said slowly, retracting her hand as he pulled out the key.

Without opening the door, the Doctor stepped back and gestured for her to proceed first. Rose chuckled a bit uncertainly at his eccentric-bordering-on-maniacal grin and obediently pushed open the doors, stepping inside. She blanched at the sight of the positively _enormous_ , roundel-covered, _Star Trek_ reminiscent room that couldn’t possibly fit inside a fifty-two-by-seventy-seven police public call box that the general public hadn’t used since the 1960s. Briefly she heard the Doctor step inside behind her, but her attention was focused mainly on the almost excited flickering of the overhead lights and a gentle background hum. Without even looking at the Doctor, Rose turned on her heel and sprinted out of the box, circling it three times to make absolutely sure she hadn’t mistaken its dimensions, and she felt like she was walking on clouds when she stepped back into the box. The Doctor looked slightly nervous, but Rose only half-noticed.

“Er, the inside’s bigger than the outside?” Rose said quietly, still in a state of shock.

“Yes,” said the Doctor just as softly, now looking at his loafers.

She gaped a little, spinning in a full circle to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. “It’s alien.”

He didn’t answer for a full minute. “Yeah.”

Rose turned and regarded him. He looked positively terrified; skin blanched white and eyes wide and locked on the floor. “Are _you_ alien?”

The Doctor’s head rose ever so slowly, and he looked at her earnestly. “Yes.” He shifted and took a tentative step towards her, and when she didn’t back away as he was clearly expecting her to, he asked, “I-is that all right?” 

She bit her lip and stared at him. The slightly silly, nosy older man who’d rescued her from her abusive relationship, called her clever because of her love of classic literature, said his name was the Doctor, and made her fall in love with him was actually an alien who lived in a blue police box that was bigger on the inside. Ducking her head, she chuckled— knowing her Doctor, it was believable. 

Stepping forward and taking his hands, she smiled at him with her tongue poking between her teeth, watching the hope shine across his face. “Yeah.” As the Doctor all but beamed, the pitch in the humming changed to something Rose could mistake for delight, and Rose frowned up at the ceiling. “What was that?”

“It was the TARDIS,” the Doctor explained, busying himself with brushing kisses over her hand now that he knew she wasn’t going to leave. “T-A-R-D-I-S. That’s Time and Relative Dimension in Space. Susan named her.”

“‘Her’?” Rose repeated, still looking around warily as though expecting the TARDIS to suddenly have a face.

“She’s a she,” the Doctor said, pressing a kiss to her palm absently. “And she’s sentient.” 

He opened his mouth to add what else his ship was, but Rose interrupted him with a, “Do you _hear_ that?”

“Er, hear what?”

“The humming.” She didn’t notice him start to smile at her with something that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than pure adoration. “I mean, I could hear it before the first time you came out of it, and just before we came in but it’s so _loud_ in here.”

“That’s her as well,” he said, doe-eyed. “It’s... well, one of the ways she communicates with non-telepathic beings.” 

“Oh, she’s trying to communicate with me?” Rose said with shock, before glancing up and the ceiling and waving at it. “Er, hello.” The humming rose in pitch before lowering again, and Rose beamed. “Ooh, was that good?”

The Doctor chuckled and nodded. The TARDIS did seem to like Rose a lot— perhaps she was just the fact that she made the Doctor so happy. 

“So, you’re alien,” Rose said, chomping down on her lip. “Wow. That’s... kind of believable,” she added, giggling when he looked a bit affronted. “How old are you for real, then?”

He exhaled through his nose contemplatively and said, “Two hundred and thirty-nine. Still quite young, actually.” 

“Young,” Rose snickered. “Mum would flip if she found out. Then, what’s ‘Gallifrey’?”

“That’s the name of my planet,” he said, wrinkling his nose in remembrance. The Gallifreyan High Council was already angry with him for stealing his type-40 TARDIS and pulling Susan out of the Academy— they’d be furious if they found out he’d fallen in love with a human.

“Then you’re Galli-Gallifreyan?” 

“Time Lord, actually,” he said, tugging on his lapels with his free hand. 

“ _Time_ Lord?” 

The Doctor grinned with delight. “The TARDIS doesn’t just provide living quarters.”

Rose paused, mouth agape. “Are you tellin’ me that it — _she_ — is a time machine?”

“Well, time-and-spaceship,” he said airily, waving his hand and beaming at the sight of her eyes lighting up. 

“No way,” she said abruptly, though her face was lit up like a Christmas tree. “Prove it.”

_Gladly_. He all but bounced over to the console, punching in coordinates and trying not to look too excited. Rose seemed startled by the TARDIS’s take-off groaning at first, but a soothing hum from his old ship reassured her and made him beam like an old fool at the console. He turned quickly to her and gestured towards the doors for her to open, which she did with extreme enthusiasm. 

She gasped loudly and fell back two steps when she flung open the door and saw what was waiting for her. A dense, crimson-and-gold nebula with flecks of white here and there, hovering over a bright blue-green planet.

“That...” Rose managed to get out, gesturing out the door.

The Doctor approached her from behind and slipped his arm round her waist, just because he knew he could. “It’s called the Ambrioni Nebula. And down there,” he added, pointing to the planet, “is Eden Prime.”

Rose’s ears perked at the name. “You said that was a hotel chain!” 

“Well, I wasn’t completely lying,” he said, shrugging. “Eden Prime is a resort planet.” 

She stayed silent for a long moment before saying, “We’re in space.”

“Yes.”

“I said I’ve always wanted to go into space.”

He grinned goofily at the memory. “Yes, you did.” 

“An’ I just happened to say that to a bloke with a spaceship?”

“Time-and-spaceship. But yes, yes you did.” When Rose didn’t answer, simply frowning at the Ambrioni Nebula, he felt a twinge of doubt and said hastily, “Rose, if you wish to leave, then—”

“Doctor, ‘m not leavin’,” Rose sighed, a smile creeping up on her face.

The Doctor brightened hopefully. “No?”

“‘Course not.” Gathering up her courage, she added, “I love you, Doctor.” 

He simply blinked for what felt like the longest moment in her life, looking absolutely dumbstruck. Then, startling her, he hoisted her up by her bum again ( _déja vu_ , Rose thought) and twirled her in a happy circle, crushing his mouth to hers. “My darling girl, I love you too!” He set her down and gripped her, looking excited. “Travel with me.”

Rose smiled, tongue between her teeth yet again. “Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Come with Susan and I in the TARDIS, and we can see the universe.”

Rose had to greatly suppress the urge to scream like a little girl, but couldn’t control the beam that split across her face. “Are you askin’ me to move in with you?”

“Yes,” he said, forsaking his usual witty banter for seriousness. 

“Yes, Doctor, I’ll move in with you,” she grinned, laughing when he picked her up and spun her again. 

Except this time he set her down, so she was sitting on top of the console, legs wrapped around his waist, and snogged her breathless. The TARDIS’s hum grew softer, as though she’d taken her sentience elsewhere, for which Rose was eternally grateful since things were starting to get heated. Hands wandered, touching, groping, but it wasn’t until Rose let her hand wander downward that he pulled away with a gasp and looked nervous.

“Rose... I’m not pretty... I’m—” he started to mumble, but she shushed him.

“I want you, Doctor,” she assured him, playing with the buttons on his dinner jacket. “Just you.”

“Darling girl,” he whispered, capturing her mouth again before picking her up and carrying her to what would from then on be their bedroom. 

They made love until dawn and lost count of how many times the phrase ‘I love you’ was used. Afterwards he read _David Copperfield_ to her until she fell asleep in his arms (his copy, as hers was at home and quite frankly he was too content lying with Rose to pilot the TARDIS to central London). Then he debated where to take her once she woke up. The entire universe at his disposal never sounded so amazing, but now he had this shining little human to share it with. 

And then he decided, first thing tomorrow morning, that they were going to pick up Susan and meet Charles Dickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Beta: natural-blues**.  
>  A/N: And so concludes the first installment in the Forever and More series :3 As some people weren't comfortable with it, I left out the explicit smut and just said they did it. I will possibly write the smut scene but keep it as a separate story, so any of you who like smut (like moi ;3) can turn to that one for the One/Rose action.

**Author's Note:**

>  **All my fics can be found on fanfiction.net, teaspoon and tumblr**.


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